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Late Professor of American History, Cornell Uni-
versity
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LL.D.
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Ph.D.
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LIBRARY OF UNIVERSAL HISTORY
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losophy and Psychology, John Hopkins University.
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GEORGE EMERY FELLOWS, Ph. D. LL. D., President University of Maine.
KEMP PLUMBER BATTLE, A. M. LL. D., Professor of History, University of North Carolina.
AMBROSE P. WINSTON, Ph. D., Assistant Professor Economics, Washington, University.
WILLIAM R. PERKINS, Professor History, University of Iowa.
REV. GEO. M. GRANT, D. D., Late Principal of Queen's University, Kingston, Ontario, Canada.
MOSES COIT TYLER, A. M., Ph. D., Late Professor of American History, Cornell University.
EL1SHA BENJAMIN ANDREWS, LL. D., D. D., Chancellor, University of Nebraska.
WILLIAM TORREY HARRIS, Ph. D., LL. D., Formerly United States Commissiner of Education.
JOHN HANSON THOMAS McPHERSON, Ph. D., Professor of History, University of Georgia.
RICHARD HE,.TH DABNEY, A. M., Ph. D., Professor of History, University of Virginia.
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PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE
AND ESSAYS
BY
S. LAING
AUTHOR OF "MODERN SCIENCE AND MODERN THOUGHT,"
"A MODERN ZOROASTRIAN." ETC
NEW YORK:
THE HUMBOLDT LIBRARY ASSOCIATION
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
SOLAR HEAT.
Difference between Astronomers and Geologists — The former say twenty,
the latter two hundred millions of years — Argument of Astronomers —
Amount of Heat received from Sun — How Supply kept up — Meteorites —
Gravity — Method of Calculation — Result: Supply of Heat cannot have
lasted more than ten to fifteen millions of years — Case of Geologists —
Progress of the Science — Theological — Theologic-Scientific — Scientific —
Uniformity of Conditions— Proved by Fossil Remains— By Temperature
and Atmosphere — Assuming Uniformity, Time required — Instances —
Solent River — Eocene Lake — Lake of Geneva — Coal Measures — Geology
based on Facts — Mathematical Conclusions on Theory — If Heat comes
from Gravity, where does Gravity come from — Gravity really unknown —
Different Theories as to Solar Heat — Lockyer and Crookes—Sun-spots —
Magnetic Storms — Conservation of Energy P&ge 9-
CHAPTER II.
WHAT THE UNIVERSE IS MADE OF.
Shooting Stars: their number, velocity, size — Connection with Comets —
Composition — Spectra — Meteorite Theory — Genesis of Stars and Nebulae
— Further stage of Theory — Impact Theory — Dark Suns in Space — Tem-
perature of Visible Stars — Their proper Motions — New Stars — Variable
Stars — Facts better explained by Impact Theory — Laplace's Theory —
Based solely on Gravity — Not inconsistent but insufficient — Even
Impact Theory not last step — Stony Masses made of Atoms — What
are Atoms — Chemical Elements — Attempts to reduce them to one —
Hydrogen — Helium — Mendelejoff 's Law — Atoms Manufactured Articles
— All of one Pattern — Vortex Theory — What behind Atoms— The
Unknowable Page 25.
CHAPTER III.
CLIMATE.
Conflict between Geology and Astronomy — Geology asserts Uniformity of
Climate until Recent Times — Astronomy asserts Inclination of Earth's
Axis to be invariable, and therefore Climates necessary— Evidence for
Warm and Uniform Climates — Greenland — Spitzbergen— Impossible
under Existing Conditions— Heat, Light, and Actinism— Invariability of
Earth's Axis— Causes of Higher and more Uniform Temperature— Cool-
ing of the Earth— More Heat from the Sun— Warmer Regions of Space —
More Carbonic-dioxide— Would not explain Uniformity of Temperature —
Excess of Oxygen— Modification of Species— Configuration of Sea and
Lan -K-Croll's Theory— Displacement of Earth's Axis— Inclination of
Axis of Planets and Moon— Unsolved Problems of the Future. Page 35.
3
iv CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IV.
THE GLACIAL PERIOD.
Importance of Date of Glacial Period — Its Bearing on Origin of Man — Short
Date Theories — Prestwich says 20,000, Lyell 200,000 Years — Croll's
Theory — Prestwich's Arguments — Solar Heat — Human Progress — Shown
by Palaeolithic Remains — Geological Evidence — Advance of Greenland
Glaciers — Denudation — Erosion of Cliffs and Valleys — Deposition — Loess
— Elevation and Depression of Land — All show Immense Antiquity —
Post-Glacial Period — Prestwich says 8000 to 10,000 years — Mellard Reade
60,000 — His Reasons — Inconsistent with Short Date Theories — Causes
of Glacial Period — Cooling of Earth — Cold Regions of Space — Change of
Earth's Axis — More Vapor in Atmosphere — Lyell's Theory, Different
Configuration of Sea and Land — Conditions of Glaciation — Problems
Pressing for Solution Poge 44-
CHAPTER V.
TERTIARY MAN.
Antiquity of Man — Man part of Quaternary Fauna — What this Implies —
Historical and Neolithic Periods — Palaeolithic — Caves and River Gravels
— Glacial and Inter Glacial Deposits — Wide Distribution of Palaeolithic
Implements in Early Quaternary Deposits — Origin of Species — Evolution
and Migration — Diversity of Human Types — Objections to Tertiary Man
— Specialization of Type — Survival through Vicissitudes of Climate —
Positive Evidence for — St. Prest — Thenay — Tagus Valley — Monte Aperto
— Cuts in Bones of Balaeonotus — Elephas Meridionalis and Halitherium
— Auvergne Worked Flints in Pliocene Tuffs — Castelnedolo — Human
Bones in Pliocene — Olmo — Evidence from America — Californian Aurif-
erous Gravels — Tuolumne and Calaveras Skulls — Age of Gravels —
Skertchley's Stone Implements — Brazilian Caves — Pampaean Strata —
Summary of Evidence , . Page 59.
CHAPTER VI.
THE MISSING LINK.
Human Origins Evolution or Miracle — First Theories Miraculous — Concep-
tion of Natural Law — Law proved to be Universal in Inorganic World —
Application to Life and Man— Darwin and Evolution — Struggle for Life
and Survival of the Fittest— Confirmed by Discovery of Missing Links-
Professor Cope's Summary— M. Gaudry— Instances of Missing Links-
Bears and Dogs— Horse— Pedigree of the Horse from Palaeotherium and
Eohippus — Appearance and Disappearance of Species — Specialization
from Primitive Types — Condylarthra— Reptiles and Birds— Links between
other Genera and Orders — Marsupials and Mammals — Monotremata —
Ascidians and Fish— Evolution of Individuals and Species from Primitive
Cell — Question of Missing Links applied to Man — Man and Ape — Resem-
blances and Differences — Specialization of Human Type — For erect pos-
ture—How Man differs from Animals— Mental and Moral Faculties—
Language— Tools — Progress — Mental Development — Lines of Research
for Missing Links— Inferior Races— Fossil Remains — Point in direction
of Tertiary Origin
CONTENTS. r
CHAPTER VII.
ANIMAL MAGNETISM AND SPIRITUALISM.
Binet and Fe"re"s Volume— School of Salpetriere — Dr. Braid — Hypnotism —
How Produced — Effects of — Lethargy — Catalepsy — Somnambulism —
Hallucination — Dreams — Hypnotic Suggestion — Instances of — Visible
rendered Invisible — Emotions Excited — Acts Dictated — Magnet — Trance
— Alternating Identity — Thought Reading — Clairvoyance — Spiritualism
— Slate Writing — Scybert Commission — All Gross Imposture — Dancing
Chairs and Tables — Large Field opened up by French Investigations —
Point to Materialistic Results .' Page 99.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RELIGION OF THE FUTURE. AGNOSTICISM AND CHRISTIANITY.
PART I.
Are they reconcilable — Definitions of Agnosticism and Christianity — Chris-
tian Dogma — Rests on Intuition, not Reason — Descartes, Kant, Coleridge
— Christian Agnostics — Tendency of the Age — Carlyle, George Eliot,
Renan — Anglican Divines, Spurgeon — Robert Elsmere . . Page 114.
CHAPTER VIII. (continued).
PART II.
Effect on Morals — Evolution of Morality— Moral Instincts — Practical Religion
— Herbert Spencer and Frederic Harrison — Positivism and the Unknow-
able— Creeds and Doctrines — Priests and Churches — Duty of Agnostics
— Prospects of the Future Page 122.
CHAPTER VIII. (continued).
PART III.
Practical Philosophy — Zoroastrian Theory — Emerson on Compensation — Good
and Evil — Leads to Toleration and Charity — Matthew Arnold and Philis-
tinism—Salvation Army — Conflict of Theology and Science — Creed of
Nineteenth Century Page 132
CHAPTER IX.
THE HISTORICAL ELEMENT IN THE GOSPELS.
Huxley and Dr. Wace — Sermon on the Mount, and Lord's Prayer — English
and German Biblical Criticism — Papias — His Account of Origin of the
Gospels — Confirmed by Internal Evidence — Commonsense Conclusions —
Miracles a Question of Faith — Evidence Required — The Ascension-
Early Christian and Mediaeval Miracles— St. Thomas-a-Becket— Faith-
Historical Element — Virgin Mary — Guiding Principles of Historical In-
quiry— Minimum of Miracles — Admissions which tell against — Jesus an
Historical Person — Born at Nazareth Legends of Nativity — St. John the
Baptist — Kingdom of God — Socialistic Spirit — Pure Morality — Nucleus
of Fact in Miracles — Precepts and Parables — Disputes with Scribes
and Pharisees — Jesus a Jew — Messiahship — Dying Words — Passion
and Crucifixion — Improbabilities — Pilate — Resurrection — Contradic-
tions—Growth of Legend— Probable Nucleus of Fact — Riot in the
Temple — Return of Disciples to Galilee — Conflicting Accounts of Res-
urrection— Return of Apostles to Jerusalem and Foundation of Christian
Church Page 137.
vl CONTENTS.
CHAPTER X.
SCEPTICISM AND PESSIMISM.
Carlyle — Causes of Pessimism — Decay of Faith — A Prosaic Future — Denial
of these Charges — Definition of Scepticism — Demonology — Treatment
of Lunatics — Witchcraft — Heresy — Religious Wars — Nationality has
superseded Religion — Wars more Humane — Originality of Modern
Events and Characters — Louis Napoleon — Bismarck — Gladstone — Parnell
— Abraham Lincoln — Lord Beaconsfield — Darwin — Huxley — Poetry —
Fiction — Painting — A Happier World Page 164.
CHAPTER XL
CREEDS OF GREAT POETS.
What is a Great Poet — Ancient and Modern Poets — Byron, Shelley, Swin-
burne, Browning, Pope, Dryden, Coleridge, Spenser — Chaucer — Words-
worth— Nature- Worship — Ode on Immortality — Byron and Shelley —
Burns — Gospel of Practical Life — Shakespeare — Self recorded in Hamlet
and Prospero — The Sonnets — Views of Death — Behind the Veil — Pros-
pero — Views identical with Goethe's Faust — And with the Maya or
Musiar of Buddhism — Pantheism — Ignoring of Religion — Patriotism and
Loyalty his ruling Motives — Practical Influence of Religion Exaggerated
— Religious Poets — Dante — Milton — Contrast between Greek Tragedy
and Modern Poetry — Tennyson — Poet of Modern Thought — In Memoriam
— Practical Conclusions Page 182.
CHAPTER XII.
ARMED EUROPE.
Exhibition in Hyde Park — Predictions of Peace — Era of Great Wars — Increase
of Armies— Difficulty of Disarmament — Diplomacy — Crimean War —
Franco-Italian and Franco-German Wars — Results — Spirit of Nationality
— France the Disturbing Element — England's Foreign Policy — Austria's
Danger — Decay of Turkey — Its Inheritance — Possible Solutions — Con-
stantinople— Balkan States — Russia's Policy ...... Page 200.
CHAPTER XIII.
TAXATION AND FINANCE.
New Departure in Finance — Increased Armaments — Foreign Policy and
Finance — Russia and France— Policy of England — Home Defence —
Army and Navy — Treasury responsible — How Budgets are framed —
National Debt — Unpolitic to reduce Debt by under-insuring — Inefficient
Administration — Want of Clear Responsibility — Incidence of Taxation —
Proportions paid by Property and Labor — Unearned Increment — Income-
tax — Succession Dutv — Lines of Budget of the Future . . . Page 214.
CHAPTERJ XIV.
POPULATION AND FOOD.
Malthusian Theory — Seems Self-evident — But is Contradicted by Experience
England — United States— Canada — Reserves of Wheat-growing Land
Increase of Urban and Industrial Population — Emigration — Working
of Malthus' Law — Prospect of Increasing Supply of Food in Old Countries
Checks on Population — Wars — Pestilence — Famine— Example of Ire-
land— England Safe for the Present — Free Trade and Competition —
Cannot go on Indefinitely — Prospects for Future Generations— It is a
"Problem of the Future." ............ Page 23<J.
AND ESSAYS
INTRODUCTION
•• Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new,
That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do."
TENNYSON'S Locks ley Hall.
THE traveller in the Alps, after struggling up through dense fir woods,
in which his view is limited to a few yards, emerges on grassy slopes,
where swelling ridges and rocky peaks appear to bound the horizon.
Weary and scant of breath, he thinks if he can surmount these his labor
will be ended, and a free view enjoyed, with nothing but the vault of
heaven above him. But no ! when these heights are scaled, he sees before
him ridge behind ridge of loftier summits, and in the background of all,
the glittering peaks of Jungfraus and Matterhorns, standing out white and
seemingly inaccessible, against the deep blue sky.
But if he is a practical mountaineer he knows that, grim as are the
glaciers and precipices which girdle their icy fortresses, they are not invin-
cible to human effort ; and as the foot of man has stood on some of the
loftiest summits, he feels assured that it will stand on those which remain
unsealed.
So it is with modern science. For centuries it had to grope its pur-
blind way through dense jungles of superstitious ignorance, where misty
shapes of theological and metaphysical speculation obscured the real facts
of the universe, or were mistaken for them. At length, and comparatively
quite recently, the human intellect emerged into the light of day, and
gaining the first heights, began to acquire accurate ideas of the true laws
and constitution of the universe. The progress, once begun, went on at
an accelerated rate, until in the last half century it has carried with it in
an impetuous torrent old creeds and cherished convictions, like so much
drift-wood floating on the surface of Lake Erie, when caught by the cur-
rent which hurries it down the Falls of Niagara.
So irresistible and so wide-spread has been the advance of science, that
at first sight we are perhaps disposed to overrate it, and to fancy, like
7
r BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Alexander, that no more worlds remain to conquer, or that, at most, a
few unimportant territories are still unannexed. But the true man of
science knows differently. He sees ridge still rising behind ridge, and at
every step wider horizons opening, with distant peaks that still baffle the
boldest climber.
But he no longer gazes at them with aimless wonder, or if he fails to
understand them, invents a high-sounding phrase to disguise his igno-
rance. His faith is firm in the laws of Nature, and he feels assured that
whatever lies within their domain is discoverable, and will, sooner or
later, and probably sooner rather than later, be discovered.
In former works I have attempted to give some popular view of what
modern science has actually accomplished in the domains of Space, Time,
Matter, Energy, Life, Human Origins, and other cognate subjects. In
this, I will endeavor to point out some of the " Problems of the Future,"
which have been raised but not solved, and are pressing for solution.
In both cases I address myself to what may be called the semi-scientific
reader. The advanced student of science will find little which he does
not already know. Those who are ignorant of the first elements of
science, and, like Gallic, care for none of these things, will scarcely un-
derstand or feel an interest in the questions treated of. But there is a
large, and I believe rapidly increasing class, who have already acquired
some elementary ideas about science and who desire to know more.
Curiosity and culture are in effect convertible terms : the wish to know is
the first condition of knowing. To many who are in this stage of culture,
but who have neither the time nor faculty for following up closely the
ever-widening circle of advanced thought, it may be interesting to get
some general and popular idea of some of the unsolved problems which
have been raised by modern science, and are occupying the thoughts of
the men who lead its van.
In selecting a few among the many questions which have been thus
raised, I have been guided by this principle. In the course of nature I
must have left this earth before they have been solved. If the option
were given me of paying it a short visit fifty or a hundred years hence,
what are the questions which I should ask with the most eager curiosity,
and to which I should expect to get a satisfactory reply?
They are partly scientific questions, respecting the age of the earth,
the constitution of the sun and solar system ; the ultimate nature of
matter and energy, the beginnings of life, the origin and antiquity of
man ; partly religious, social, and political questions which are looming
on the horizon and engaging the attention of thinking men.
I do not pretend to have exhausted the list, but I hope I may have
done something to give definiteness and precision to the ideas of some of
the educated public who are not specialists upon various questions which
are now pressing forward and waiting for solution.
MJE3^2>
CHAPTER I
SOLAR HEAT
ONE of the most interesting and perplexing scientific problems of the
day is that raised by the conflict between physicists and geologists
as to the duration of solar heat.
Leading mathematicians, such as Sir W. Thomson and Helmholtz, as-
sign twenty, or more probably, ten millions of years as the outside pos-
sible past duration of a supply of heat from the sun, sufficient to main-
tain the earth under conditions enabling it to support life. Lyell, and a
majority of the best geologists, consider that one hundred to two hun-
dred millions of years are required to account for the undoubted facts of
geology since life began. Each side support their case by arguments,
which, taken by themselves, seem conclusive. And yet the gap between
the two is so wide that it cannot be bridged over by mutual concessions,
and it is evident that there must be some fundamental error in the as-
sumed data on one side or the other.
The mathematicians base their argument on the supply of solar heat
They say the present amount of heat radiated by the sun is a measurable
quantity ; the principle of the conservation of energy shows that this heat
cannot be self-supplied, but must be a transformation of pre-existing en-
ergy ; the only sufficient energy we know of is that of the mechanical
force generated by the contraction of the sun as it cools. This, again, is
a measurable quantity, and the outside amount of mechanical power gen-
erated by contraction of the sun's mass to its present volume by gravity,
would not supply the present amount of heat for more than twenty mill-
ions, or more probably for more than ten or fifteen millions of years.
This forms a chain of reasoning, every link of which seems to be sol-
idly welded. Let us examine each link in detail. The amount of solar
heat received at the earth's surface has been carefully measured by Hers-
chell, Pouillet, and other eminent observers, the principle being to inter-
cept a beam of sunshine of known dimensions, and make it give up its
heat to a known mass of water or other substance, measuring accurately
the rise of temperature produced in a given time. The result is this :
the heat, measured by Calories, or units of heat sufficient to raise the
temperature of one kilogramme of water one degree Centigrade, received
per minute by one square metre exposed perpendicularly to the sun's rays
9
TO BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
at the upper surface of the atmosphere, ranges from Pouillet's estimate of
1 7 '6 to that of Forbes' 28-2 Calories, the difference arising mainly from
the different allowance made for absorption by the atmosphere, and the
highest estimate being proved by Langley's observations at a high altitude
to be the most reliable.
From this it is esay to calculate the amount of heat received by the
earth from the sun in a given time. Herschell puts it in this striking way.
The amount of heat received on the earth's surface, with the sun in the
zenith, would melt an inch thickness of ice in two hours and thirteen
minutes. But, if it be assumed that the sun radiates heat equally in all
directions, the earth intercepts only an almost infinitesimally small amount
of this heat In fact, only the proportion which the earth's surface bears
to the surface of a sphere whose centre is in the sun, and its radius the
distance of the earth from the sun, or about ninety-three millions of miles.
This proportion is 2200000000- But even tn*s ininute fraction is sufficient
to melt yearly, at the earth s equator, a layer of ice of more than one
hundred and ten feet thick. So, as Sir W. Thomson puts it, if the sun
were a mass of solid coal, and produced its heat by combustion, it would
burn out in less than six thousand years. Of course this calculation de-
pends on the assumption that the sun radiates heat equally in all directions
into space. It is difficult to conceive how this can be otherwise, for, as
far as we know, all heated bodies at the earth's surface do so, and all im-
pulses which cause waves in an elastic medium, such as we know to be the
case with heat and light, propagate these waves in all directions.
Assuming therefore that the sun gives out this enormous amount of
heat, where does it come from, and how is the supply kept up, uniformly
or nearly so, for millions of years ? The law of the conservation of energy
says, in effect, that something cannot be made out of nothing, and that
all special forms of energy, such as heat, light, electricity, and mechanical
power, are convertible into one another, and are simply transformations
of one original fund of energy. If so, the sun's heat must be kept up by
energy transformed into heat from some other form. It cannot be from
combustion, which is a chemical action, for we have seen that a sun of
solid coal would be burned out in six thousand years. It must be from
mechanical force, which we know as a fact to be convertible into heat in
a definite and ascertained proportion.
Now what are the sources of mechanical power known in the case of
the sun ? Two — the impact of aerolites, and the shrinkage of the sun as
it contracts, which latter resolves itself into an effect of gravity.
Both are real causes. Aerolites fall on the earth and generate heat,
the smaller ones, or shooting stars, being set on fire and burnt up by the
friction of the atmosphere; the larger ones reaching the earth in masses of
stone, singularly like those ejected from deep-seated valcanoes, and with
their surfaces glazed by intense heat. If such meteors fall on the earth,
it is reasonable to suppose that vastly more must fall on the sun, with ite
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. ir
vastly greater surface and attracting power. And it is to be noted that
comparatively small masses might generate large amounts of heat, for the
amount of mechanical force, and therefore of heat, generated by arrested
motion, increases with the square of the velocity. A body weighing 8 -339
kilogrammes falling from a height which gave it a velocity of one metre
per second, would generate one calory of heat, or enough to raise the
temperature of one kilogramme of water by i° Centigrade. But the same
body moving with the velocity of a cannon-ball, or 500 metres per second,
would generate two hundred and fifty thousand times as much heat; and
if moving with a velocity of 700,000 metres per second, which is about
the velocity with which a body would fall into the sun from the distance
of the earth, the heat produced would be nearly two million times as
great.
Sir W. Thomson has calculated that a quantity of matter equal to about
one-hundredth of the mass of the earth falling annually with this velocity
on the sun's surface, would maintain its present radiation indefinitely.
It is clear therefore that if this amount of meteoric matter really falls on
the sun its heat might be maintained. But many objections have been
raised to such a supposition.
To explain the sun's heat we must have a cause that is not only suffi-
cient to generate its total amount, but also one which generates it uniform-
ily. If the sun were a target kept at an intense white heat by showers of
meteoric small shot peppering into it, how is it that this stream of small
shot is incessant and uniform ?
Only small portions of the total meteoric mass revolving round the sun
can be captured by it gradually, as their orbits are contracted. An extra
supply, as some solid body or enormous comet with its attendant meteo-
ric train falling into the sun, would raise its temperature above, while a
deficient supply would lower it below the average, and a comparatively
slight variation in the sun's temperature would destroy existing conditions
of life on the earth.
Another objection to the meteoric theory is, that it would require such
a large mass of meteoric matter revolving in space as might be expected
to exercise a perceptible effect on the motions of the planets, both by the
law of gravity and by the retardation due to a resisting medium. And this
is specially true of the orbits of comets which approach the sun very close-
ly. As meteors do not fall from a state of rest straight into the sun, but
revolve around it with planetary velocities, they can only fall into it by
being drawn inwards in gradually contracting spirals, until they reach a
point where they impinge on the sun or its atmosphere. Hence a vastly
greater amount of meteoric matter must be revolving round the sun in
the space near it, than can be captured and generate heat in any single year.
But several comets are known to almost have grazed the sun's atmosphere,
and emerged from it to continue to describe their elliptic orbits and return
true to time, as predicted by calculations based on the known laws of
12 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
gravity acting on them from the sun and planets alone, in a /x»n-resisting
medium.
Consider what this means. Comets are bodies of such immense volume
and extreme rarity that one of them got entangled among Jupiter's satel-
lites and thrown out of its course, without affecting in the slightest per-
ceptible degree the motions of those satellites. How could such comets,
rushing closely round the sun with enormous velocities, avoid showing
perturbations, if they encountered any considerable mass of meteoric
matter ?
The theory of meteorites, to which reference will be made in a future
chapter, meets many of these difficulties, and strengthens the case for a
meteoric origin of a large part of solar heat, but it hardly accounts for the
uniformity of the supply, and is hardly yet so generally accepted as to su-
persede the older theory that the main source of the sun's heat is to be
sought in the transformation of the mechanical energy of gravity, as its
volume contracts.
Assuming this theory, the principle on which the supply of solar heat
is calculated is the following. We know the amount of heat given out
by each square metre of the sun's surface, and we know the height from
which a given weight must fall to generate this heat when its motion is
arrested. We know also that this heat will be the same whether the
motion is suddenly or gradually arrested. Now in this case the given
weight is that of a long narrow cone of matter, whose base is one square
metre at the sun's surface, and its apex a point at the sun's centre. Know-
ing the sun's diameter and mean density, it is easy to calculate the weight
of such a cone if we suppose it to be solid. Its weight is equivalent to
that of 244,000,000 tons of solar heaviness at the sun's surface. To re-
duce this to terrestrial tons, and their equivalent in horse-power, we must
allow for the difference of weight or gravity, at the respective surface of
the sun and earth.
Reduced to terrestrial figures, in which one horse-power is 270 metre-
tons per hour (i.e. a ton lifted 270 metres in an hour), the horse-power at
the sun's surface is 10 metre-tons. But the radiation from each square
metre of the solar surface in heat per hour is equivalent to 78,000 horse-
power in energy, or to that of 780,000 metre-tons. An easy calculation
shows that to supply energy at this rate for a year, our supposed cone of
244,000,000 tons must fall one metre in 313 hours, or about 35 metres in
a year. Refined mathematical calculations are requisite to show how this
result is effected, if we suppose, as is probable, that the mass of matter
forming the sun, instead of being solid, existed first in the nebulous or
gaseous state, and gradually contracted into a fluid mass in which con-
vection currents are constantly carrying down surface layers which have
become cooler by radiation, and replacing them by ascending currents
from the hotter and denser interior. These calculations have been made
by mathematicians of undoubted competence, with the result that the
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 13
dynamical equivalent of the heat radiated from the sun in a given time ia
practically the same as if it were solid.
This resu)f shows that if the sun has contracted to its present size,
from a volume extending far beyond the orbit of the remotest planet,
Neptune, it has furnished about eighteen million times as much heat as it
now supplies in a year; and that with its present dimensions it must con-
tract at the rate of 35 metres per year, or one per cent of its radius in
200,000 years.
Allowing for the increasing density of the sun as shrinkage proceeds,
the problem works out that if the sun's radiation of heat has been uniform
for the last fifteen millions of years, the solar radius must then have been
four times greater than it is now; and that if the present supply were
maintained by shrinkage alone, for the next twenty millions of years, the
sun must have shrunk to half its present size. But these figures must be
greatly reduced by several considerations. They are based on Herschell's
and Pouillet's figures for the total activity of solar radiation, but Forbes
and Langley have shown that the allowance made for absorption of solar
heat by the earth's atmosphere was insufficient, and that the real amount
of heat radiated by the sun is greater than was supposed by Pouillet in
the ratio of 17 to i. This diminishes the past and future periods of
solar radiation in the same proportion, reducing the past period from
fifteen to nine millions of years, and the future from twenty millions to
twelve. Moreover, when the sun's surface was four times larger, it must
have given out more heat than at present, and more than existing condi-
tions of life in geological times could support. If, therefore, the sun's
shrinkage from gravity has been the sole or principal source of its supply
of heat, it is difficult to see how life and the existing order of things on
the earth can have lasted for more than ten millions of years at the out-
side.
So far the mathematicians seem to have it all their own way, and, as
often happens when the plaintiffs case only has been heard, it seems to
be conclusive. But what say the defendants — the geologists ? They also
base their case on an undoubted principle, and on undeniable facts. The
principle is that of the uniformity of existing causes ; the facts, those of
actual experiment and observation.
Geology, in the pre-Lyellite days, passed through two stages, the theo-
logical and the theologico-scientific. The theological, which prevailed
universally until the present century, was based on the belief that the book
of Genesis, instead of being a sort of poetical prelude to a collection of
ancient writings of religious and moral import, was a strictly literal and
scientific narration of what actually took place, every word of which was
imparted by a Divine revelation, which it was impious to explain away or
to dispute. Geology was therefore confined very much to searching for
facts in Nature confirming this narrative. Thus when fossil-shells were
observed on mountain-tops, they were adduced as incontrovertible proofs
14 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
of Noah's deluge; and even a sceptical and encyclopaedic mind like that
of Voltaire could only attempt to palliate this proof by suggesting thai the
shells were dropped from pilgrims' hats while crossing the Alps on their
way to Rome. The period when such a ridiculous suggestion could be
made by an accomplished scholar seems thousands of years from us, and
yet it occurred in the last century. The naive and infantile narrative of
the Noachian deluge is now taken no more seriously than are the little
wooden arks, with their contents of pigmy animals, which with other toys
amuse the nursery.
The next stage was what may be called the theologico-scientific, when
the facts and laws of Nature began to be recognized; but the old dogmatic
faith was still so prevalent, that these facts and laws were viewed through
a theological medium, and attempts were made to reconcile the Bible and
science, by distorting the conclusions of science, and giving the state-
ments of Genesis a general and allegorical, rather than a literal meaning.
This was the era when days were expanded into periods, universal deluges
contracted into local floods, and when miraculous catastrophes and crea-
tions were invoked ad libitum, to bring geological and zoological facts
into some sort of possible accordance with the non-natural versions of
plain words into which Scriptural texts were evaporated. This school
included, in its time, some eminent men, such as Buckland and Hugh
Miller, and it still lingers on the outskirts of science, as may be seen by
Mr. Gladstone's essay on the Proem to Genesis. But with all the leader*
of science it is quite extinct, and the prevailing tone of thought has be-
come Darwinian, as universally as a century ago it was theological.
Differences may exist as to the details of Darwin's theory, and the extent
of its application in some of the more recondite causes of variation, but
no one of any authority in science doubts that evolution, under fixed
laws, is the key to the secrets of the universe, and that one original im-
press, and not perpetual miracle, or secondary interference, has been the
real course of Nature.
In geology this conviction has been embodied in what is known as
Lvell's Law of Uniformity. If any one wants to get a clear idea of what
this means, let him go to the British Museum and look at a slab of sand-
stone from the Silurian formation. He will see precisely what he may see
to-day on the sands of Southend or Margate. Ripple marks of a gently
flowing or ebbing tide, worm castings, or even little pits showing where
rain-drops had fallen on the wet sand, and these pits higher on one side
than the other, showing the size of the drops, the force of the wind, and
the direction from which it was blowing. The inference is irresistible that
at this immensely remote period the winds blew, the rain fell, the tides
ebbed and flowed, sand-banks were formed, and worms or sand-eels bur-
rowed in them, as they do at the present day. Or look at a piece of
chaiK through a microscope, and you will find it mainly composed of the
microscopic shells of a minute form of animal life, the Globigerina, which,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 15
gradually falling to the bottom of a deep ocean like the finest dust, have
accumulated more deep than a thousand feet in thickness. Precisely
the same thing is going on in the Atlantic to-day, where deep-sea dredg-
ings bring up a Globigerina ooze, which affords a safe bed for the
submarine telegraph. Or take another instance. A shell called the
Lingula, about the size of a small mussel, is found abundantly in the
Silurian, and even in the earlier Cambrian formations; and another shell,
the Terebratula, in the Devonian. Both are found living at the present
day, not only of the same genus, but identically of the same species. It
is evident that no great change can have taken place in the conditions of
oceanic,, life since these mollusks lived and flourished in Silurian and
Devonian seas.
Nor can the condition of the atmosphere have greatly changed since
the time of the air-breathing Silurian scorpion, whose fossil remains show
him to be scarcely distinguishable from the present scorpion.
In fact, the atmosphere affords one of the most conclusive proofs of the
uninterrupted maintenance of existing conditions during an enormous
period. When we say enormous time, the term is used with reference to
any recent or historical standard as applicable to the period when geology
practically commences; that is, with the first dawn of life disclosed by
fossils in the Cambrian era, or beyond that with formations like the
Laurentian, which can be clearly proved to be sedimentary and metamor-
phic. But no geologist ventures to extend this doctrine of uniformity be-
yond the date when fossils appear, or to deny that though the laws of
Nature are the same, the conditions must have been totally different in the
earlier stages of the planet, when it was cooling and condensing into its
present form. Nor could he deny that, even within this comparatively
recent period, there may have been changes of existing conditions, as we
know indeed from the alterations between the Glacial period and those of
higher and more uniform temperature. But his position is that such
changes have been of the same order, and owing to similar causes as
those which now prevail; and that when a known cause, given a sufficient
time, will produce an effect, it is unphilosophical to 'assume miracles,
catastrophes, or a totally different order of things, in order to reduce the
time to some procrustean standard of theoretical prepossession.
To Sir C. Lyell belongs the credit of having established this doctrine
of uniformity on an unassailable basis, and made it the fundamental ax-
iom of geological science. By an exhaustive survey of the whole field of
geology, from the earliest formations in which life appears, down to the
present day, he has shown conclusively that while causes identical with,
or of the same order as, existing causes, will, if given sufficient time,
account for all the facts hitherto observed, there is not a single fact which
proves the occurrence of a totally different order of causes. This, of
course, applies only to the geological record commencing with the com-
mencement of organic life on the earth, and not to the earlier astronomi-
16 BEACON LIGHTS OP SCIENCE.
cal period when the planet was condensing from nebulous matter, and
slowly cooling and contracting. Nor does it imply absolute uniformity
with existing conditions, for changes in climate, temperature, distribution
of sea and land, and otherwise, have doubtless occurred from the slow
operation of existing causes. But it excludes all fanciful theories of ca-
taclysms, annihilating each successive era with its life, and introducing a
new one ; earthquakes throwing up mountain chains at a shock ; deluges
sweeping over the face of the earth, and so forth, in which even eminent
geologists used to indulge thirty or forty years ago. While no competent
geologist of the present day would like to affirm positively that there may
not have been, in past ages, explosions more violent than that of Kraka-
toa, lava streams more extensive than that of Skaptar-Jokul, and earth-
quakes more powerful than that which uplifted five or six hundred miles
of the Pacific coast of South America six or seven feet, it may be doubt-
ful if he could point out a single instance since the Silurian epoch where
such was demonstrably the case.
Assuming the principle of uniformity, the time requisite to explain the
facts of geology becomes a matter for approximate calculation. Not
readily in years or centuries, for our historical measuring-yard does not
extend beyond seven thousand years, when we find a dense population
and high civilization already existing in Egypt ; but in periods of which
we can form some approximate idea.
To understand the full force of the evidence, it is necessary to study
carefully the works of Lyell, Croll, Geikie, and other authorities on ge-
ology ; but some idea of the sort of periods which are required for gaug-
ing Time back to the commencement of life may be arrived at from a few
instances.
The tests of geological time are mainly from two sources — denudation
and deposition. The present rate of denudation of a continent is known
with considerable accuracy, from careful measurements of the quantity of
solid matter carried down by rivers. The Mississippi affords the best
test, both because the measurements have been made with the greatest ac-
curacy, and because the conditions of the vast area drained by it and its
tributary rivers afford a better average of the rate of continental denuda-
tion, including as it does a great variety of climates and geological for-
mations, and being singularly free from exceptional influences. The rate
thus deduced is one foot from the general surface of the basin in six
thousand years. Now the measured thickness of the known sedimentary
strata is about 177,000 feet. The proportion of sea to land is three to
one, and the bulk of the deposition of the waste of land must have been
laid down within a comparatively narrow margin of the sea nearest to
land. On these data Wallace calculates that the time required to deposit
this 177,000 feet would be 28,000,000 years, taking the rate of denuda-
tion at one foot in 3000 years, or 56,000,00x3 years, taking the rate de-
duced from the Mississippi. But it must have been more than this, for
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 17
the stratified rocks are to a great extent composed of the debris of older
strata, which have been deposited, upheaved, and again denuded. Most
of the known stratified rocks must have been in this way denuded and
deposited many times over. Nor is there any good reason for supposing
that the rate of denudation was materially greater in former, than in recent
geological eras. On the contrary, the recent Glacial period, by grinding
down solid rock into loose materials, and, as the ice and snow melted,
causing more torrential inundations of rivers, must have tended to accel-
erate denudation.
Another proof of the enormous amount of solid rock which has been
removed by denudation, is afforded by the faults or cracks in the earth's
crust, which have in many cases displaced strata by thousands of feet, all
traces of which displacement have been subsequently planed down to one
uniform surface. Thus the great fault which separates the Silurians of
the south of Scotland from the Devonian and Carboniferous region to the
north of it, is estimated by the Geological Survey at 15,000 feet. A moun-
tain mass of this height, terminating in a steep cliff at the fault, must
have existed to the south of it, composed mainly of the Devonian strata
which now stop abruptly at the north edge of the fault. At present there
is no inequality of the surface at the fault, and /therefore 15,000 feet 01
nearly three miles of rock must have been removed by denudation. And
what is most important, the time in which this denudation was effected is
fixed as having occurred in the interval between the Devonian and Car-
boniferous periods, for while no trace of the former formation is found
south of the fault, the limestones and coal-measures of the latter lie directly
on the Silurian rocks. At the rate of denudation deduced from the Miss-
issippi observations of one foot in 6000 years, the removal of those three
miles of rock would have required 90,000,000 years for the interval be-
tween two of the geological formations.
Croll, in his recent work on Stellar Evolution, gives a number of simi-
lar instances, one in the Appalachian Mountains, in which the vertical
displacement is not less than 20,000 feet, bringing the upper Devonian
strata on one side opposite to the lowest Cambrian on the other. Of
course we cannot assume these enormous intervals of time to have actually
occurred, but they are quite sufficient to show the absolute impossibility of
reconciling geological facts with any estimate of the duration of solar heat
derived from the theory of contradiction by gravitation.
Take another instance from a more recent period. There is a dried-up
Eocene lake in North America, which once occupied an extensive area in
the States of Wyoming and Nebraska, formed by streams running down
from the Wahsatch. Uintah, and other mountain ranges, which are
Eastern outliers of the great backbone of the continent — the Rocky Moun-
tains. It was gradually silted up by a deposit of more than 5000 feet, or
a mile thick of clays and sands, a portion of which has since been carved
by the rain and weather into the singular formation of isolated castle-like
i8 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
bluffs and pyramids, known as the " bad lands." It is full of remains of
Eocene animals, often of huge size and of a peculiar type. How long
must it have taken to silt up a lake larger than Lake Superior, with tran-
quil deposits to fine mud and sand ? The nearest approximation towards
such a calculation is afforded by the silting up of the Lake of Geneva.
Swiss geologists have calculated from the rate of advance of the delta in
historical times, that it may have taken 90,000 or 100,000 years since the
silting process began, which could only be after the first Rhone glacier,
which once extended to the Juras, had shrunk back to the head of the lake.
This calculation may be right or wrong, but certainly a vastly longer time
must have been required to silt up a vastly larger lake to a depth of 5000
feet And if anything, one would expect the process of silting up to have
been slower, for in the Eocene period there were no glaciers, or melting
snow-fields, to accelerate the denudation which must have gone on pan
passu with the deposit If we consider the geological evidence more in
detail, we find it all pointing to the same conclusion of immense anti-
quity.
Thus, if we take the coal-measures which form only a part of one
formation — the Carboniferous. Each seam of coal consists of the con-
solidated debris of a forest. With every seam there is an under-clay in
which the trees and ferns grow; and a roof of shale or sandstone deposited
on it when this floor was submerged. The bulk of the coal is frequently
composed of the microscopic spores of the ferns and club-mosses which
formed the principal vegetation of these forests. The time required is
therefore that for the accumulation of vegetable matter, consisting mainly
of fine spore-dust, to a depth sufficient, under great compression, to give
the seam of solid coal. In Nova Scotia, and other localities, the coal-
measures have a thickness of 12,000 feet, made up of seam upon seam of
coal, each with its under-clay and roof, implying a separate growth, sub-
mergence, and elevation.
Sir J. Dawson and Professor Huxley, who have studied the subject
minutely, calculate that the time represented by the coal-measures alone
would be six millions of years. In other words, the time required for
this one subordinate member of one geological formation, would be half
the total time assigned by Thomson and Helmholz for the total possible
past duration of the present supply of solar heat
Those who fully consider and appreciate any one of these instances
will not be astonished to hear that Sir C. Lyell, after carefully going over
and summing up the various lines of evidence afforded by the 100,000
feet of stratified and fossiliferous formations adove the Cambrian, came to
the conclusion that two hundred millions of years was the probable, and
one hundred millions the minimum possible duration of the existing order
of things that would explain the facts. And all subsequent discoveries,
and the best geological opinions, go to confirm this estimate. Thus,
when Lyell made his estimate, the great Laurentian system of gneissic and
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 19
other rocks which underlie the Cambrian was scarcely known, or assumed
to be a primitive portion of the earth's crust of Plutonic origin. But it is
now clearly proved to be bedded, and therefore an aqueous deposit from
the denudation of older rocks, though the minor signs of stratification
have disappeared, owing to metamorphism under heat and pressure.
This at once adds 30,000 feet to the known thickness of deposited strata.
It is not positively known to have contained life, for with the doubtful
exception of the Eozoon Canadiense, the fossils, if any, have disappeared
during this process of metamorphism; but it contains indirect evidence
of life on the most extensive scale. Thus, great quantities of graphite or
plumbago are found in it, and as ordinary coal can be traced first into an-
thracite and then into graphite, the inference is strong that the Laurentian
graphite must, like coal, have originated from masses of vegetable matter.
It contains also great beds of limestone, similar to those which, in later
formations, are known to have originated from the remains of corals and
other hard parts of marine animals, which derived their skeletons from cal-
careous matter dissolved in sea-water. Large beds of iron ore are also
found, which, in later formations, owe their origin to the solution of perox-
ide of iron and its deoxidation by organic agency. There is thus, there-
fore, evidence of the existence of life on a vast scale in this lowest of all
formations, which of itself adds more than a fourth to the thickness of
the whole of the previously known deposited strata of the earth's crust,
and therefore to the time presumably required for their deposit.
And yet, as we have seen, mathematicians affirm with equal confidence
that Lyell's figures must be divided by at least ten, or probably by twenty,
to arrive at the ten millions of years which is their estimate of the time
for which the sun has given out its present life-sustaining amount of light
and heat, and this short period has to provide not only for geological time,
but for the far larger time during which the earth was passing through its
earlier stages, and condensing from a gaseous vapor.
It is evident that there must be some fundamental error on one side or
the other, which some day will be detected, for the laws of nature are uni-
form, and there cannot be one code for astronomers and another for geol-
ogists. I am inclined to think that the error will be found in some of
the assumptions of the physicists. The data of geology seem more certain
and more capable of verification by an appeal to facts. Thus, the rate at
which rocks waste away, and lakes silt up; the amount of solid matter
carried down by rivers, and the number of feet or inches per square mile
thus denuded in a given time, are all matters of approximate and tolerably
accurate observation and calculation. But of the nature and constitution
« >f the sun we really know very little, and are only beginning to get some
glimpses of them during the past ten or twenty years by the aid of the
spectroscope. The sun, as we see it, is not fluid, for if it were its rota-
tion must make it protuberant at the equator, which it is not It is not
solid, for if it were its equatorial region could not rotate, as it does, more
20 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
rapidly than that nearer the pole. We know its apparent volume and its
mean density; but we do not know how this density is distributed. The
conditions of matter under such extreme temperature and pressure are
quite conjectural. For aught we know to the contrary, the sun may have
a nucleus much smaller and much heavier than we are in the habit of as-
suming.
Above all, what makes me distrust these mathematical calculations
respecting the sun's heat is, that they do not really solve the problem, but
only remove it one step further back. Heat, they say, can be nothing
but transformed mechanical power; but where does the mechanical power
come from ? From gravity. And where does the gravity come from ?
They cannot tell. It is the old Hindoo cosmogony over again. The
world rests on an elephant; the elephant on a tortoise. But what does
the tortoise rest on ?
We are accustomed to speak of gravity as the one well-known and es-
tablished fact of the universe. And so it is as regards the various motions
which result from it, and the fact of its being an atribute of all matter
from atoms to stars. But of its real essence and modus operandi we know
nothing: less even than in the case of some of the other forms of energy
into which it can be transformed. In the case of light, for instance, we
know that it is caused by waves or vibrations of an exceedingly elastic
and imponderable medium or ether diffused through space. We can
measure and count these vibrations, and know the velocity with which
the light-wave travels, and trace its effects from impact on the eye,
through the retina and optic nerve up to the cells of the brain.
But in the case of gravity we know none of these things, and cannot
even form a conception of how one mass of matter can act upon another,
without connection and apparently without requiring time for the trans-
mission of the impulse. Is it a pulling or a pushing force ? We do not
even know this, and are not one whit advanced beyond the saying of
Newton that he could not conceive how one body could act on another
without some physical connection between them.
It seems to me that Sir W. Thompson starts from the assumption that
gravity is the one fundamental form of energy from which all other forms,
such as light and heat, are derived by transformation. But what a mere
drop in the ocean is the energy of gravity compared with the atomic and
molecular energies, which now in a latent and now in an active form
build up the universe of matter? How incalculably small must the
gravity of the sun be, compared with the sum of the energies of the atoms
of which its mass is composed.
If it were permissible to hazard a conjecture where there is no proof,
it would be that gravity may turn out to be one, and that by no means
the most important, manifestation of the primitive fund of energy, which
underlies the atoms of which all matter is composed.
Various ingenious attempts have been made to explain the cause of
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 21
gravity, as that of strain or stress of some intervening medium, or space-
filling, incompressible fluid; or by Le Sage's theory of infinite impacts of
mltramundane corpuscles, partially screened in the direction in which
gravity acts by the bodies which attract one another. But Clark Maxwell
and other accomplished mathematicians have shown fatal objections to
all these theories, and Tait in his Properties of Matter sums up the latest re-
sults almost in the identical words used by Newton in his letter to Bentley
— "In fact, the cause of gravitation remains undiscovered."
Again, who can tell what is the constitution of the infinite space
through which our solar system and the universe of visible stars are
travelling, with a velocity which has been estimated in some cases as high
as two hundred or even four hundred miles per second ?
These facts of the proper motions of the stars, and especially of what
are known as the " runaway stars," seem conclusive against the assump-
tion that gravity is the sole and primitive form of energy, from which all
other forms, such as heat and light, are derived by transformation.
These star-motions are apparently in straight lines, in a variety of direc-
tions, and the velocities are such that it is impossible to account for them
bj any conceivable action of the force of gravity. Professor Newcomb
has shown by mathematical calculation that the gravitation of the whole
aniverse, assuming it to contain 100,000,000 of stars, each on the average
five times larger than the sun, would require to be sixty-four times greater
than it really is, to have given one star (1830 Groombridge) the velocity of
200 miles per second which is actually possesses, or to be able to arrest
its flight through space. Of course this applies with greater force to a
star like Arcturus, moving with a velocity of 400 miles per second. The
amount of energy of a star like this, whose volume has been computed to
be eleven times greater than that of the sun, moving with a velocity of
400 miles per second, must be enormously greater than any energy
exerted by it in the form of gravitation, and if its motion were arrested,
the heat engendered must be in an even larger proportion, seeing that it
depends on the square of the velocity, than any heat which could be sup-
plied by its gradual contraction, on the theory applied by Thomson and
Helmholtz to solar heat.
After all, what do we really know of the contents of space except this,
that it contains a vast number of stars which are suns like ours, scattered
at enormous distances from one another, and also innumerable meteorites ?
And also this, that the phenomena of light and heat prove the existence
of waves of known dimensions vibrating with known velocities and trans-
mitted at a known rate ; which waves compel us to assume a medium
or ether with certain calculable qualities. But these qualities are so ex-
traordinary that it may almost be doubted whether such an ether has a
real material existence, and is anything more than a sort of mathemati-
cal entity. Its elasticity must be a million million times that 'of air,
which, as we know, is equal to a pressure of about 1 5 Ibs. to the square
22
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
inch ; the number of its oscillations must be at least 700,000,000,000,000
in one second of time; and it must be destitute of any perceptible
amount of the ordinary qualities of matter, for it exerts no gravitating or
retarding force, even on the attenuated matter of comets moving through
it with immense velocities.
Beyond this we can only conjecture that space may contain a number
of larger meteors or dark suns, rushing through it in all directions, and
possibly in the state of dissociated atoms the elements of substances such
as carbon and oxygen, which are locked up in the earth's crust through
the medium of life and vegetation, in vastly greater quantities than could
be afforded by any conceivable supply derived from the atmosphere. And
it may be conjectured also that variations of temperature may exist in
different regions of space, helping to account for the secular variations of
temperature at the earth's surface, such as are shown by the Glacial period
or periods.
Even if we confine ourselves to the sun itself, leaving these cosmic
speculations to be discussed in a subsequent chapter, we find the greatest
uncertainty prevailing as to the conditions under which it exerts and
generates heat Thus, Professor Young says, "The sun's mass, dimen-
sions, and motions are, as a whole, pretty well determined and understood;
but when we come to questions relating to its constitution, the cause and
nature of the appearances presented upon its surface, the periodicy of it«
spots, its temperature, and the maintenance of its heat, the extent of its
atmosphere, and the nature of the corona, we find the most radical dif-
ferences of opinion. "
Take the case of the spots. These were originally attributed by
Herschell to cyclones in the sun's atmosphere, showing us glimpses, as
through a funnel, of a cool and dark solid body below; by others they have
been thought to be splashes caused by the downfall of large masses of
meteoric matter; by some to be volcanic eruptions throwing up vast scoriae;
and finally, as the most probable solution, to be great whirlwinds, or
cyclonic convection currents, by which the cooler gases of the sun's
atmosphere are sucked down and replaced by hotter gases from the
interior. But none of these theories give an explanation of the observed
fact that these sun-spots have a regular maximum and minimum period of
about eleven years. Nor do they give the slightest clue to the other re-
markable fact that the outburst of large sun-spots often produces an
apparently instantaneous effect on the earth's magnetism; causing electric
telegraphs to write with a tongue of fire, magnets to oscillate violently, the
Aurora Borealis to appear, and otherwise indicating what is known as a
magnetic storm.
It is pretty clearly established that the spots are colder than the sun's
general surface, but not sufficiently so as to affect its general temperature,
or the cause of the seasons upon the earth; but the far more inexplicable
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 23
effect upon terrestrial magnetism is attested by too many observations to
be at all doubtful.
This opens up a new and quite unexplained field of speculation as to
the sun's electric energy. The physicists, who treat the attractive form of
gravity as the sole cause of the sun's energy, and convert it all into heat,
take no account of the energy which manifests itself as a repulsive force,
and takes the form of electricity. And yet electricity is one of the trans-
formable manifestations of energy as much as heat or mechanical power,
and the phenomena or comets' tails are sufficient to show that, under cer-
tain conditions, the sun can exercise an enormous repulsive force. The
question also may be raised whether, after all, it is certain that heat is
radiated out in all directions, so that out of 1,000,000 units of the life-
giving energy of the sun, 999,999 are^absolutely wasted in space, and one
only is utilized. Electricity, so far as we know, cannot exist without two
opposite poles, implying reciprocal action. Do the sun-spots, which affect
the earth's magnetism, radiate out an equal amount of magnetic energy in
all directions into space ? If not, how can we be sure that heat, into and
out of which electricity and magnetism can be transformed, does so ?
As Professor Young observes, "perhaps we assume with a little too
much confidence that in free space radiation does take place equally in
all directions," and he asks " whether the constitution of things may not
be such that radiation and transfer of energy can take place only between
ponderable masses; and that too, without the expenditure of energy upon
the transmitting agent (if such exists) along the line of transmission, even
in transitu. If this were the case, then the sun would send out its energy
only to planets, meteors and sister-stars, wasting none in empty space; and
so its loss of heat would be enormously diminished, and the time-scale of
the planetary system would be correspondingly extended."
The same difficulty applies in the case of gravity. We only know it as
an attractive force reciprocally exerted between two bodies in the propor-
tion of their masses and inverse squares of distances. Is it radiated out
in all directions into empty space, where it meets with no reciprocally
attracting body ? This affects not only the permanent maintenance of
the supply of gravity, but goes even deeper to the fundamental axiom of
all modern conceptions, whether scientific or philosophical, of the uni-
verse, viz., the Conservation of Energy. You cannot make something
out of nothing; you cannot create energy or matter, but only transform
them. Good; but how about that which is one of the principal manifes-
tations of energy in the universe — that of gravity ? You can catch limited
portions of it, transform them into mechanical power, and then backwards
and forwards as you like in heat, light, chemical action, electricity and
magnetism, neither losing nor gaining a particle of the original energy by
any of these transformations. A water-wheel may turn a dynamo, which
generates electricity that may be stored in accumulators, and turn a wheel
a hundred miles off; and, if you could eliminate waste and friction, the
24 BEACON LIGHTS Ob~ SCIENCE.
second wheel would give out exactly what the weight of the falling water
put into the first one. But whence came the gravity which made the
waterfall and the wheel turn ? Was it itself a transformation of heat or
electricity.? If not, what was it, and how came it there? If Thomson
and Helmholtz assume an infinite fund of energy in the form of gravity to
account for heat, why shall they not as well assume an infinite fund of
heat to account for gravity ? And if heat is dissipated by use until it is
exhausted, or reduced to one stationary average of temperature, and worlds
and suns die, why should gravity be gifted with perpetual youth, and es-
cape the general law of birth, maturity and death ?
These are problems which the present cannot answer. Possibly the
future may, but in the meantime we shall do well to keep a firm footing
on solid earth, and rely on conclusions based on ascertained facts and un-
doubted deductions from them, rather than on abstract and doubtful theo-
ries, even if they are presented to us in the apparently accurate form of
mathematical calculation. Or, to bring this chapter to a practical result,
we shall be more likely to arrive at just views respecting the constitution
of the earth and its inhabitants by following Darwin and Lyell as our
guides, than by accepting astronomical theories which would so reduce
geological time as to negative the idea of uniformity of law and evolution,
and introduce once more the chaos of catastrophes and supernatural inter-
ferences.
CHAPTER II.
WHAT THE UNIVERSE IS MADE OF.
WHAT is the universe made of ? Such is the question which has
been asked in many ages and countries by earnest men looking
up at the starry vault of heaven, and down into the recesses of their own
minds. The latest reply of science is, that it is made of shooting stars.
The idea may seem paradoxical to those whose only knowledge of shoot-
ing stars is derived from an occasional glimpse on a clear night, when
they have seen something like a small rocket flash across the sky, appar-
ently close to the earth, out of darkness into darkness, reminding them
of some human life —
"Qui file, qui file et disparait."
And yet it is now presented to us by eminent authorities, and supported
by a long array of serious scientific arguments.
What do we know as certain facts with regard to shooting stars ?
i. They are vastly more numerous than any one has an idea of who
has not watched them continuously for many nights. Astronomers who
have kept a record for many years assure us that the average number seen
by one observer at one place on a clear moonless night is fourteen per
hour, which is shown by calculation to be equivalent to twenty millions
daily for the whole earth. But the number of meteorites met with by the
earth can only be the minutest fraction of those circulating in space. The
orbits of those we see do not coincide with the ecliptic, but lie in planes
inclined to it at all sorts of angles, and apparently having no relation to
the plane in which the earth travels round the sun, or to the solar system.
The chances are almost infinite against our minute speck of a planet en-
countering any single meteor, or stream of meteors, thus traversing space
in all directions, and as we do encounter some seven thousand millions
of these small bodies in the course of each year, their total number must
be an almost infinite multiple of this large figure. Moreover, the sun,
with its attendant system, is rushing through space with a velocity of some
20 miles per second, and therefore carrying us into new regions of the
universe at the rate of some six hundred millions of miles per annum, and
yet meteorites are met with everywhere. Granting, therefore, that each
separate meteorite may be very small, not exceeding on the average a
fraction of an ounce in weight, and that even in meteor streams they may
26 BEACOX LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
be, as some astronomers have calculated, 200 miles apart, the aggregate
amount of this meteoric matter in space must be practically almost
infinite.
2. They are not terrestrial phenomena moving in the lower atmosphere,
but celestial bodies moving in orbits and with velocities comparable to
those of planets and comets. Their velocities are seldom under ten miks
a second or over fifty, and average about thirty, the velocity of the earth
in its orbit round the sun being eighteen.
3. They are of various composition, comprising both a large majority
of smaller particles which are set on fire by the resistance of the earth's
atmosphere, and entirely burned up and resolved into vapor long before
they reach its surface ; and a few larger ones, known as meteors, which
are only partially fused or glazed by heat, and reach the earth in the form
of stony or metallic masses.
4. They are not uniformly distributed through space, but collect m
meteoric swarms or streams, two at least of which revolve round the sun
in closed rings which are intersected by the earth's orbit, causing the
magnificent displays of shooting stars which are seen in August and
November.
5. They are connected with comets, it having been demonstrated by
Schiaparelli that the orbit of the comet of 1866 is identical with that of
the August swarm of meteors known as the Perseids, and connections
between comets and meteor streams have been found in at least three
other cases. The fact is generally believed that comets are nothing but a
condensation of meteorites rendered incandescent by the heat generated
by their mutual collision when brought into close proximity.
6. Their composition, as inferred from that of the larger meteors which
reach the earth, is identical or nearly so with that of matter brought up
from great depths by volcanic eruptions. In each case they consist of
two classes : one, composed mainly of native iron alloyed with nickel,
the other of stony matter consisting mainly of compounds of silicon and
magnesium. Most meteorites consist of compounds of the two classes,
in which the stony parts seem to have broken into fragments by violent
collision, and become embedded in iron which has been fused by heat
into a plastic or pasty condition.
At this point our positive knowledge of meteorites from direct observa-
tion ceases, and we have to be guided by the spectroscope in further re-
searches. This marvellous instrument enables us, by analyzing the light
transmitted to us by all luminous objects however composed and however
distant, to ascertain their composition as accurately as if portions of them
had been brought down to earth and could be analyzed in our labora-
tories. We can tell whether they are gaseous, liquid, or solid ; whether
they shine by intrinsic or reflected light ; and by comparing the lines in
their spectra with those of known terrestrial elements, whether they con-
tain those elements, or are made up of matter in a state unknown to u«.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 27
The first result of spectroscopic discoveries was to establish the fact that
the sun, stars, nebulae, comets, and meteorites, all show such an identity
in their spectra with some one or more of those terrestial elements, as to
leave no doubt that the composition of matter is uniform throughout the
universe.
Further experiments, of which Mr. Norman Lockyer's paper, read to
the Royal Society, affords the latest and most complete summary, carry
this knowledge farther. They show that spectra are not fixed and invaria-
ble, but change according to the conditions of heat, pressure and other-
wise, affecting the bodies from which the spectra are given out. Thus
the spectrum of a comet in perhelion, when its component parts are
crowded together and intensely heated by the sun, is very different from
that of the same comet when it is at a great distance from the sun, either
in advancing towards it or receding from it Thus the spectrum of the
great comet of 1882 when nearest the sun exhibited many of the lines ob-
tained in the laboratory from the vapors of sodium, iron, and magnesium
at the temperature of the Bunsen burner. As it receded the lines grad-
ually died out until a very few were left; and in the comet of 1886-7,
when last seen, all had died out except one line of magnesium. Thus
carbon also, which is such an important ingredient in organic life, appears
and disappears in cometary spectra according to the conditions of pressure
and temperature.
What Mr. Lockyer has done is to show that all the varied spectra and
classes of spectra, given out by suns, stars, nebulae, comets and shooting
stars, can be reproduced from actual meteorites which have fallen to the
earth, by experiments in the laboratory, with the exception only of those
of stars which, like Sirius, are glowing at a transcendental temperature
far exceeding that of our sun, and which cannot be approached by the
electric arc in any form of intense heat which can be obtained in our pres-
ent earth. Thus the " spectrum of the sun can be very fairly reproduced
(in some parts almost line for line) by taking a composite photograph of
the arc spectrum of several stony meteorites between iron meteoric poles."
We are now in a position to understand the meteorite theory of the
universe. Granted that the number of meteorites in space is practically in-
finite, and that they tend to coalesce into streams, their collisions supply an
equally unlimited fund of heat upon which we can draw at pleasure.
The amount of heat developed by each collision is the transformed energy
of the mechanical force. This force, and consequently this heat, in-
creases with the square of the velocity. Thus, if a tropical hurricane,
moving at the rate of 100 miles an hour, uproots trees and levels houses,
the same mass of air moving with the mean meteoric velocity of 33 1-2
miles per second, would exert a force of one hundred and forty-four mill-
ion times greater. We know from the explosion of dynamite that when a
gas expands very much quicker than the air can get out of its way, the
effect is as if the blow of a tremendous steam-hammer were inflicted on an
28 BEACON .LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
•nyielding anvil ; and we can readily conceive, therefore, how meteorites
are almost invariably burnt up and dissipated, even in the rare air of the
upper atmosphere, and how their repeated collisions in space might gen-
erate any required amount of heat
Suppose, therefore, in the beginning of things, space filled by an innu-
merable multitude of these little stony masses, composed of the one, oj
possibly two or three, primitive elements of matter, moving in all direc-
tions, with immense though different velocities, coalescing into stream*
and colliding, we have a basis out of which suns, stars, planets, satellites,
nebulae and comets might be formed. The looser aggregations, giving
fewer collisions and less heat, form comets and nebulae, and the clash of
two mighty streams gives us suns like Sirius in a state of intense lumi-
nosity and temperature. As these cool and contract by radiating out
their heat, they pass into the second stage of stars of which our sun is one,
still glowing with heat and light, but cooled down to a point at which
the primitivte elements can combine and form secondary ones, which can
be detected by the spectroscope, and identified with those with which we
are familiar as chemical elements upon earth. As cooling proceeds, they
pass from the white-hot into the red-hot stage, and finally into the cold
and lifeless non-luminous stage of burnt-out suns. Not, however, neces-
sarily to die, for in the chances of infinite time these dead and invisible
masses may collide together, and at a blow regain their youth, and com-
mence the cycle anew as suns of the first order.
There is grandeur in the idea which, to a certain extent, reproduces
what the kinetic theory of gases teaches as to the clash of innumerable
atoms darting about in all directions, producing the temperature and pres-
sure of a gas in a confined space. Only here, instead of atoms — so small
that one of them is of the size of a rifle bullet, compared with the earth —
we have stony masses for atoms, stars and nebulae for molecules, and in-
stead of glass jars or bladders, the whole universe.
This, however, is only the first stage of the theory. What are these lit-
tle stony bodies, and how did they come there ? The only answer we can
give is derived from the constitution of those larger meteor-stones which
actually fall on the earth and can be examined. They have invariably
the appearance of fragments torn from larger bodies by collisions or ex-
plosions, and there is no reason for doubting that what they appear to be
they are.
This carries us back to the impact theory of which a full account is
given in the work recently published by Dr. Croll on Stellar Evolution.
It supposes that for an almost infinite time, an almost indefinite number
of dark stars, or cold and non-luminous solid bodies of stellar magnitude,
have been rushing about in an unlimited space in all directions, and with
enormous velocities. Occasionally they collide, and, as mechanical
principles show, generate an intense heat, more than sufficient to convert
their whole mass into glowing gas, at a temperature which may possibly
PROBLEMS 01' THH FUTURE. 29
dissociate its atoms, with the exception of some fragments from the shat-
tered surfaces which are thrown off into space by the sudden generation
of explosive gas. That they really are such dark suns rushing through
space appears certain from what we know respecting the constitution of
the visible stars. We find them exhibiting all ranges of temperature, from
the intense heat of the white stars like Sirius, to that of the duller red stars
like Arcturus, our own sun occupying an intermediate position; while our
moon affords an example of a dead world, which from its smaller size has
cooled more rapidly. As the moon is, so must the red stars inevitably
become in a sufficient number of millions of years, if the laws of nature
continue uninterrupted. And their proper motions, rushing through space
in different directions with velocities ranging up to 400 miles per second,
must continue after they have become dark, as long as the first law of
motion holds good, that bodies in motion cannot generate changes of
motion of themselves, but must continue to move forwards in a-straight
line unless acted upon by some external force.
Among bodies thus rushing in different directions collisions must oc-
casionally occur, and it is a matter of simple calculation that the mechani-
cal force converted into heat by such collisions, is amply sufficient to pro-
duce any temperature that may be required to create new suns and nebulae,
and to account for all the phenomena which are actually observed.
Moreover, the existence of such dark bodies is established by direct
observation. That fragmentary masses, weighing several cwts, come in
from space and fall upon the earth is a fact. So also is it a fact that
bright stars, some of them like the famous new star in Cassiopaea,
brighter than stars of the first magnitude, suddenly blaze out and gradual-
ly disappear. The impact theory accounts for this, while the nebular
theory, or any hypothesis based solely on the contraction of a mass of
nebulous vapor under the law of gravity, entirely fails to do so. Again,
the phenomena of variable stars can best be explained by assuming either
that such stars pass periodically through dense streams of meteoric matter,
increasing their light, or else that large dark bodies are periodically inter-
posed between us and the stars, and thus diminish it The constitution
also of comets, and of many nebulae, as disclosed by the spectroscope, is
far better explained by the impact than by the nebular theory. In fact,
it is inconsistent with the latter theory, which can give no account of
comets, meteorites, or other phenomena, which imply small dissociated
portions of matter, moving in streams or aggregating in nebulae, and rush-
ing with immense velocities in paths inclined to each other at different
angles, and which have no relation to the rotating plane of the solar or
any other system. Even within the limits of the planetary system there
are many facts which are better explained by the theory of impact than by
that of contraction. For instance the great difference in the inclination
of the axes of rotation of many planets and satellites to the plane in
which they revolve about the sun and their primaries. But after all there
3o BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
is no real inconsistency between the impact theory and that of Laplace.
The former takes up the history of the universe at an earlier stage, and
•upplies a mass of gas or cosmic matter, at a higher temperature, and with
that temperature longer maintained by repeated collisions and indraught
of meteorites, than is assigned to it by the nebular hypothesis, but ulti-
mately a great deal of this gas must resolve itself into such a medium as
Laplace supposes, contracting and forming whirls under the operation of
gravity. The triumphs of mathematical science deduced from Newton's
law of gravity were so signal, that it is not surprising that it should have
been assumed that gravity, and gravity alone, was the fundamental law
which would explain everything. But, as often happens, increasing
knowledge has rendered many things uncerta'n which appeared to be cer-
tain. Problems which seemed simple have become complex, and it has
become apparent that the universe contains many forms of motion, and
many manifestations of energy, which cannot be explained by the laws of
gravity. For instance, the runaway stars, the world of meteorites, the
proper motions of molecules and atoms, and the requisite duration of
solar heat to account for the undoubted facts of geology. The law of
gravity and the nebular theory were a great step towards reducing the
phenomena of the universe to one great uniform law; but the theory of
impact takes up the history at an earlier stage, and carries us one step
further towards infinity and eternity. If the whole stellar universe is not,
so to speak, the crop of a single season, but an indefinite succession of
crops, stars being born and dying, dying and being renewed, without ap-
pearance of a beginning or an end, the vista of existence is vastly en-
larged. But even this is not the last step towards the unknowable.
Granted that these dark suns are facts, they are not ultimate facts. They
are matter, and matter is made up of molecules, and molecules of atom*.
Judging from the fragments which reach the earth, and the teachings of
the spectroscope, meteoric matter is composed of a few atoms identical
with those which are the most common elements of terrestrial chemistry.
Hydrogen, nitrogen, sulphur, iron, nickel, calcium, silicon, and alum-
inium, are the principal, if not the sole constituents of meteoric stones,
and are those the lines of one or more of which appear in the spectra of
stars, nebulae, meteors, and comets, according to their conditions of tem-
perature and pressure. What then are these atoms ? There are some
seventy of them known to chemists as ultimate elements ; that is to say,
which are not further resolvable by any means available in our labora-
tories. But no one can suppose that this is really the ultimate fact, and
that original matter really consists of seventy indivisible units, ranging in
weight from the i of hydrogen to the 240 of uranium, and more than hatf
of them consisting of exceedingly rare elements, which play no apprecia-
ble part in the construction of any form of matter. The mind refuses to
accept the conclusion that such little mole-hills as yttrium, zirconium and
gallium, only known as minute products of a few of the rarest minerals,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 31
really present unsurmountable obstacles to the science which has scaled
Alps, measured light-waves, and weighted stars.
Accordingly, constant attempts are being made to reduce atoms to
one simple element, and to one comprehensive law. The problem is not
yet solved ; but it is being attacked on various sides, and almost every
day brings us nearer towards a solution. Hydrogen first put in a claim
to be the primitive element, as being the lightest, and it is remarkable
that the weight of a very large proportion of the other elementary atoms
is an exact multiple of that of the hydrogen atom. The spectral lines of
hydrogen are also the last seen in those of the hottest stars, where all sec-
ondary combinations may be supposed to be dissociated. This hydrogen
theory, which was first proposed by Prout, can hardly be said to be firmly
established, as there are some important elements, such as chlorine and
sodium, which do not correspond with the law of being simple multiples
of hydrogen. Still the agreement is too close in a number of cases to be
accidental, and the latest researches show that by halving the hydrogen
atom, that is, supposing this atom to be composed of two-linked atoms,
the deviations from the law may be reduced within limits which may be
fairly attributable to errors in the delicate operations requisite for
fixing atomic weights. Mr. Crookes suggests that helium, which is
only known from a single 3jne in the solar spectrum, and which
is apparently lighter than hydrogen, may be this half-hydrogen-atom,
and thus be the ultimate element out of which all other atoms
are manufactured. For Herschell and Clark Maxwell both arrived at
the conclusion that "atoms bear the impress of being manufactured
articles."
It is, in fact, certain that some relation exists among them, for the
Russian chemist Mendelejeff has shown that if the atomic weights of the
known elements are arranged in a consecutive order, they show what is
called a periodical law. That is, the other qualities of atoms, such as
specific heat, affinity, atomicity, etc., rise with the weights up to a
certain point, then fall, then rise again, and so describe a sort of zig-
zag line like those we see of the readings of the barometer on a weather
chart. Only this atomic zig-zag seems to follow a certain law, so that
groups of elements which have similar qualities recur at nearly fixed
intervals.
The meaning of this law is not yet clear, but it is so certain that it
enabled Mendelejeff to predict the discovery of three new elements which
have since been found, filling up gaps in the series which his law
required.
The nearest approach to a mathematical explanation of this law is
afforded by the discovery that if the cube roots of the atomic weight*
were used as ordinates instead of the weights themselves, which i»
equivalent to taking volumes instead of lines to represent the atomic
weights, the zig-zag line resolves itself into a regular curve, which is
32 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
identical with, or very closely resembles, the logarithmic curve well known
to mathematicians.
What the effect of these laws may be is not yet fully known, but they
all point towards the conclusion that the atoms which we call elementary
are all really manufactured out of some one atom or sub-atom, which is
the primary element of matter. Where are they manufactured ? Crookes
says on the outside of the universe, wherever that may be, and that they
are destroyed or dissociated when they reach the position of the lowest
potential energy, which is in the centres of the largest stars. This may
or may not be true, but it shows the direction in which speculation is
tending, and carries our conceptions of the possibilities of the universe far
beyond the limits of the nebular hypothesis and the results of the law of
gravity.
This also may be said of the atoms, whatever sort of manufactured
articles they may be, they are manufactured to the same pattern, like
the nuts and screws of a large locomotive or gun factory. The hydro-
gen-atom gives the same spectral lines, which means that it vibrates,
and starts or absorbs ether-waves precisely in the same manner, whether
it exists in Sirius, in the nebula of Orion, or in a jar of gas in a
laboratory.
The problem of atoms is being attacked from another side. What,
after all, are atoms, or the primary protyle or sub-atom, if we can succeed
in tracing them back to one origin? The general idea is that of an
almost infinitesimally small, but still finite, unit of matter, impenetrable,
indivisible, and endowed with enormous energies, both of velocity and
attractive and repulsive forces. Various other ideas have been started.
Some have considered them as mere centres of force without parts or
magnitude; others as condensed portions of a continuous matter; but all
these theories are open to fatal objections, and the conception of atoms
has pretty well settled down to that of small separate bodies floating like
buoys, in an ocean of ether, that is, of the still rarer, all-prevading medium
which transmits light and heat. This accounts best for all the phenomena
hitherto observed, and may be said to hold the field. The only serious
competitor with it is the vortex theory of Helmholtz and Thomson, which
assumes atoms to be revolving rings of a perfect fluid pervading space.
The general idea is given by the rings of smoke which occasionally es-
cape from the lips of smokers. These rings persist for a long time, glide
before the knife so as to be indivisible, and when two of them collide they
rebound and vibrate. In a word, they behave in many respects very like
atoms, and refined mathematical calculations show that if we could sup-
pose them formed and rotating, not in air, but in what is called a perfect
fluid, incompressible, possessing inertia, and yet offering no resistance
whatever to motion through it in any direction, such vortex-rings would
be indeed indivisible and indestructible, and might well be what we call
atoms. The theory is extremely ingenious, 1 ut it has hardly yet got be-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 33
yond the stage of a mathematical speculation, like space of four dimen-
sions, which has no relation to actual facts known by observation and
experiment.
To begin with, there is absolutely no proof of such a medium as is
required. It is already difficult enough to realize the conception of such
a medium as ether, though its waves can be measured, and its existence
is imperatively demanded by the phenomena of light and heat. But to
suppose a second and equally all-pervading medium, of a different nature,
and with properties still more inconceivable, is too much for the imagina-
tion, and would require to be supported by undoubted facts. Again,
atoms have weight, and the supposed medium has no weight and offers
no resistance. Why should a portion of it acquire weight by being made
to rotate ; and what conceivable cause could set it rotating ? But the
most fatal objection is, how could such rings continue to rotate unless
some external or centripetal force counteracted the centrifugal tendency
to fly off from the circumference in a straight line ? Rotation implies
centrifugal force, and matter which possesses inertia and obeys the first
law of motion must inevitably fly off, unless acted on by some other force.
In the case of the earth, the sun's attraction supplies the centripetal force ;
in the case of a wheel or bicycle the molecular cohesion of the solid parts ;
in the case of smoke-rings the resistance of the air. But what supplies it
in the vortex-rings, rotating in a perfect fluid, which offers no resistance
to any motion ?
It will be seen that the problem of atoms, involving that of the ulti-
mate constitution of matter, is fast advancing towards some definite solu-
tion ; but it is not yet solved, and is a problem of the future. Seeing,
however, the wonderful advances which have been made in the last half-
century, and specially in the last few years, it is impossible to doubt that,
as in the case of gravity, some future Newton will sum up in some com-
prehensive law all the scattered facts which point in the same direction
towards the unity of the universe, and the persistence of evolution from
the simplest to the most complex.
But even when this triumph of science has been attained, the question
remains as insoluble as ever — Whence came this primeval matter and pri-
meval energy ?
I recollect as a boy looking up at the stars, and asking myself what
does all this mean ? Where did it come from, and what is beyond it ?
The only answer was a sort of painful ache, as of straining the eyes to see
in the darkness. And now that, thanks to the discoveries of modern
science, I can see so much beyond the visible stars, far off into the infi-
nitely great, far down into the infinitely small, far back into infinite Time
— at the end of all I am not one whit advanced beyond that feeling of
boyhood. I gaze with straining eyes into the Unknowable, and gaze in
vain. Others may see, or fancy they see, something behind the knowable
phenomena of the universe, linked together by invariable laws. Some a
34 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
personal God, others a design like human design, a living whole, ideas in
a Universal Mind, illusion, Maya Nirvana, what not. For my own part,
if I candidly confess the truth to myself, I can only say with Tennyson —
"Behold! I know not anything,"
and content myself with the only creed which seems to me certain, that
of trying to do some little good in my generation, and leave the world a
little better rather than a little woise lot tuy individual unit of existence.
CHAPTER III.
CUMATE.
GEOLOGY and astronomy are in conflict on other questions as well
as that of the time during which a sufficient supply of solar heat
has rendered the earth habitable. The conditions of that supply are as
important as the total quantity, and these conditions depend mainly on
climate. Geology seems to show that during the vast lapse of time em-
braced by fossil records from the Cambrian to the close of the Tertiary
period, there were no well-marked zones of climate, and the conditions
of life were uniform, or nearly so, throughout the whole earth. Astron-
omy, on the other hand, asserts that the vicissitudes of the seasons, with
their corresponding zones of climate, must have existed from the begin-
ning as they now are. Geology relies on undoubted facts. Coral forma-
tions, which require both a warm and an equable climate, and cannot
live in a temperature below 66° Fahrenheit, were found by Captain Nares
in Greenland, in latitude 8 1° 40'. Ammonites of the same genera and
even of the same species are found alike in Melville's Island and in India ;
and Ichthyosauri have been met with in Greenland and Spitzbergen.
Lyell, Dana, and all modern geologists agree that in primordial times
there were " no zones of climate," " no marked difference between life in
warm and cold latitudes ; " " warm Arctic seas all the year round."
This continued until what is, geologically speaking, quite the other
day, the close of the Tertiary period. In Spitzbergen, latitude 78° 56',
are found the remains of a luxuriant Miocene flora, comprising species
like the common cypress, which now grow in the Southern United States
and California. Magnolias and zamias are found in Miocene strata in
Greenland in latitude 70°.
These species, it must be observed, require not only a warm but an
equable climate. They would be killed by a single severe night's frost,
and yet they grew and flourished where the winter night now lasts for four
months, and where the thermometer has registered more than 100° below
freezing-point. The difference between summer and winter temperature
in high Arctic latitudes exceeds 100° Fahrenheit, and whatever may have
been the initial temperature, this difference of heat, due to solar radiation,
must have been added and subtracted every year, as long as the earth's
axis of rotation preserved its present obliquity to the plane of the ecliptic
35
j6 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
in which the earth revolves round the sun. If the temperature of Spitz-
bergen was from any cause high enough to prevent the thermometer from
falling below zero in winter, it must have risen in summer far above the
extremest tropical temperature at which life and vegetation are possible.
Nor is it a question of temperature only, but of light and the actinic
rays of the solar beam, which are equally essential for vegetation. A lux-
uriant forest vegetation, including such forms as the magnolia and cypress,
could no more flourish under any conditions now known to us in Spitz-
bergen, than they could if shut up for four months in a dark cellar. And
yet with the present obliquity of the axis, the sun must have been below
the horizon in those latitudes from November till March.
At present, as we go north from the equator towards the Arctic circle,
we find species changing to accommodate themselves to the change of
environment Palms are succeeded by oaks and beeches ; these again by
pines and birches, and these by dwarf willows and lichens, until all vege-
tation, except of the very humblest forms, dies out as we approach the
pole. But in the geological records of earlier periods no such changes
are discernible. The Miocene magnolia of Spitzbergen is not even a
greatly modified magnolia, but of the same species as the magnolia of the
present day. The Miocene cypress is the common cypress. If there
were no such science as astronomy, geology would point to the conclusion
that until after the Miocene period climate was uniform ; there were no
distinct zones or seasons, and therefore no obliquity of the earth's axis,
or at any rate nothing like the present amount. With these conditions
there would have been perpetual spring, and all we should require would
be a higher average temperature for the whole earth. But to this con-
clusion astronomy opposes an inflexible non possumus. If there is one
thing more certain than another, it is that mathematical calculations,
based on Newton's law of gravity, explain all the movements of the solar
system. They do so with a certainty that enables us to predict the places
of the earth, moon, and planets years before-hand, with absolute accuracy.
And if there is one thing more certain than another in these calculations,
it is that no permanent change is possible in the inclination of the earth's
axis. The earth now spins, in twenty-four hours, round an axis inclined
at an angle of 66£° to the plane on which it revolves round the sun in a
year. It must always have so spun, for there is no cause known to science
by which, when this rotation was once established, the inclination of the
axis could have been permanently altered. The plane of the equator
shifts its position slowly on that of the ecliptic, owing to various minor
actions of the force of gravity, the principal one being the precession of
the equinoxes, due to the protuberant matter at the earth's equator ; and
thus in 22,000 years, it makes a complete circuit, returning to its original
position. But during this circuit, its inclination to the plane of the
ecliptic remains practically constant, and the effect on the seasons is un-
changed, except that they come at different positions of the earth in its
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 37
orbit round the sun, so that summer and winter alternately come when we
are farthest from the sun or nearest to it. At present we are nearer the
sun in winter than in summer, and the winter half of the year is shorter
than the summer half in the Northern hemisphere. In 11,000 years this
position will be reversed, and winter will be shorter than summer in the
Southern hemisphere ; but there is nothing in these slight changes to aifect
the general course of the seasons, and as we happen to be now nearer
the sun in winter, the effect of any slight change due to precession would
rather be to increase the difference between summer and winter heat in
high northern latitudes, and so aggravate the difficulty of reconciling the
conclusions of the two conflicting sciences. And yet there must be some
way of reconciling them. Truth cannot speak with two voices, and the
laws of nature cannot give contradictory results.
Let us consider first what the undoubted facts of geology require us to
assume. Two things — firstly, that the general temperature of the earth
was higher in former times than now ; secondly, that it was more uniform.
As regards the first condition, astronomy interposes no obstacle but affords
no aid, and it must be admitted that we are still in the region of conject-
ure rather than of certainty. The first obvious guess is that the earth was
formerly hotter, and has been gradually cooling. But this guess is con-
tradicted by mathematical calculations as to the cooling of heated bodies,
which show that after the earth had cooled down to the point of forming
a solid crust, many miles in thickness, of non-conducting rock, internal
heat could have had little or no effect on surface temperature. This is
confirmed by what we know of the climates of areas where large reservoirs
of internal heat lie comparatively near the surface, as in Iceland and other
volcanic districts. In the celebrated Comstock lode the heat of the earth
increases so rapidly, that it becomes impossible to work the mines below
a very moderate depth. Yet in all these cases the temperature at the sur-
face remains the same as that of other regions on the same isotherm, and
is determined by the same circumstances of latitude, elevation, aerial and
ocean currents, and other known conditions. Nor if the internal tem-
perature of the earth was a factor in the problem, would it be easy to
account for our recovery from the cold of the Glacial period, in the face
of a continued and progressive diminution of the planet's heat
Another conjecture is that the sun may have given out more heat
formerly. This, however, is a mere guess, confirmed by no theory or ex-
perience. On the contrary, theory rather points to the paradoxical con-
clusion that, as the sun has cooled, it has got hotter; that is, that a volume
of gas, in cooling, develops rather more heat by contracting than it loses
by radiating. Moreover, as we have already seen, the difficulty is to
understand how even the present supply of solar heat can have been main-
tained long enough for the time requisite to account for the facts of
geology; and the improvement in climate since the Glacial period is as
inconsistent with solar as it is with terrestrial refrigeration.
38 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
The passage of the solar system through wanner and colder regions of
space is another explanation which has been invoked. But this — though
by no means improbable — is as yet a mere possibility, and based on noth-
ing approaching to actual knowledge.
Of existing known causes there is one which seems, as far as it goes, to
be a vera causa which might have given the earth's surface a warmer
temperature in early ages. Its reality may be proved by the very simple
experiment of sleeping on a cold night without a blanket. Evidently,
other circumstances being the same, such as the reading of the thermom-
eter and blood heat of the body, the question of blanket or no blanket
makes an immense difference in the resulting temperature. Why is this
the case ? Because the blanket keeps the heat in, or in other words
radiates it back to the body instead of letting it radiate out into space.
There are other things which do this even more effectually than a wollen
blanket, for they let the heat of the sun's rays in, and having let it in,
catch it as in a trap, and do not let it out again. Glass, for instance, in
a conservatory, is such a trap, and, as we all know, will keep the
temperature inside much warmer than it is outside, even without the aid
of artificial heat. Many other substances have the same property, and
among them two which are essential elements of the earth's atmosphere,
water in the form of vapor, and carbonic dioxide. Tyndall, in his Heat
considered as a Mode of Motion, has shown clearly what an immense part
these gases have in maintaining the temperature of the earth's surface.
If the cold is more intense, especially at night, on high mountains, it is
not because less heat is received from the sun's rays during the twenty-four
hours, but because half the atmosphere is left below, and so the heat-
retaining blanket is thin and threadbare. So in deserts where the air is dry
and there is little aqueous vapor, the heat by day may be excessive and
yet the cold by night well-nigh intolerable. "The removal," says
Tyndall, " for a single summer's night of the aqueous vapor which covers
England would be attended by the destruction of every plant which a
freezing temperature could kill." And such a removal on a winter's
night would send the thermometer down far below zero.
This property of retaining heat is not confined to water in the form of
vapor ; it is common to other gases, and often in a higher degree.
Among these is one which is always present in the atmosphere — carbonic-
dioxide, a gas formed by the combination of two atoms of oxygen with
one of carbon.
The percentage of this gas in the air is very small, only a fraction of
one per cent. , and yet it constitutes the sole source of supply of the
carbon required, directly for vegetable, and indirectly for animal life.
At present the balance between the two sorts of life seems to be kept up,
as in an aquarium, by animals restoring to the air, in the form of car-
bonic-dioxide, the carbon which has been abstracted from it by plants.
But when we look at the enormous amount of carbon which has been
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 39
locked up in coal, limestone, and other carboniferous formations of the
•arth's crust, it is evident that it must be vastly greater than could be de-
rived from such a small percentage of carbonic-dioxide as now exists in
the atmosphere. It has been estimated by experienced geologists as
many hundred times greater. Where all this carbon could have come
from is a question not yet solved. Some have thought that it may have
been supplied from the interior of the earth by volcanoes ; but although
it is certain that some volcanic vents do emit carbonic-dioxide, as in the
case of Lake Avernus, and the Grotto-del-cane, near Naples, the quantity
is small, and the better opinion seems to be that it is only given out when
iubterranean fires come in contact with limestone, or some other form
of previously deposited carbon. Did the carbon, then, come from the
air ? If so, there must have been more than one hundred times as much
carbonic-dioxide in it in early geological times as there is at present
This would go some way towards explaining the difficulty of the
higher temperature prevailing in past ages, for more carbonic-dioxide
would undoubtedly be equivalent to an additional blanket to protect the
earth from cold ; and the higher temperature thus caused would enable
the air to hold more aqueous vapor in solution, and thus increase the
thickness of the water-blanket
It is conceivable that under such conditions a warm and humid climate
may have prevailed over a great part of the earth's surface, though this
would hardly meet the difficulty of the uniform existence of such a climate
in latitudes where the supply of heat from the sun must have been so
very different in winter and summer. Nor would this difficulty be re-
moved even if we were to suppose that the earth's axis might have been
nearly vertical to the plane of the ecliptic. This might meet the difficulty
as to light and actinic rays, for there would be everywhere twelve hours
of day throughout the year ; but it would not meet the difficulty as to
temperature, for if the air-blanket was sufficient to retain heat enough in
the Arctic Circle to prevent frosts, from a sun which never rose much
above the horizon, it must have retained far too much heat for existing
life and vegetation in latitudes nearer to the equator.
There are, however, many grave objections to considering this to be the
sole or even the principal cause of the warmer climates of early ages. It
is by no means certain that either animal or vegetable life, in anything
like known forms, could exist in an atmosphere so surcharged with car-
bon. Nor is carbon all ; we must account also for oxygen. If the
whole of the carbon now fixed in the different strata of the earth's crust
was derived from carbonic-dioxide originally present in the atmosphere,
so also must have been the oxygen, which in various forms of oxides now
forms an even larger constituent of that crust. Oxygen is a very active
element, which, under moderate conditions of heat and moisture, com-
bines readily with iron, silicon, calcium, aluminium, and all the metallic
bases. Many hundred times more oxygen must have been withdrawn
4o BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
from the air than now exists in it to form the rocks which are the principal
part of the earth's crust. But an excess of oxygen is as fatal to life as an
excess of carbonic-dioxide. Terrestrial life, as known to us, depends on
a very delicate adjustment of the quantities of oxygen and nitrogen in the
air. A very little excess or deficit of either would destroy all air-breath-
ing animals. With too much oxygen we should be burnt up even more
rapidly than the drunkard is by too much alcohol ; with too little, the
fire of life would be choked by ashes and refuse. If there was formerly a
hundred, or even ten times more oxygen in the atmosphere than there is
now, there must have been a corresponding excess of nitrogen to neutra-
lize it, and if so, what has become of the nitrogen ? Nitrogen is an in-
ert element which enters sparingly into combinations, and does not, like
oxygen and carbon, get locked up in great masses of the earth's solid
crust. Once in the atmosphere it would seem that it must have remained
there ; and if so, as oxygen was withdrawn in continually increasing
quantities, how could the life-sustaining proportion of the two gases have
been maintained and continued down to the present day ?
It has been said that life may have been so differently organized in
past geological ages as to have existed under very different conditions,
and the mammoth is appealed to as an instance of an elephant modified
so as to resist Arctic cold, and the result of deep-sea dredgings shows that
molluscs, crustaceans, and other low forms of life may exist in ice-cold
water and without light But we can hardly suppose such profound
modifications of existing genera and species of highly-organized plants
and animals as would enable them to breathe air of a very different com-
position.
For we must remember that the evidence for an elevated and uniform
temperature is not confined to remote geological ages, but come down to
the close of the Tertiary period, when existing forms, both of animal and
vegetable life, were firmly established, and several species have survived
to the present day without perceptible change. Thus when the magnolia
was growing in Spitzbergen, the dryopithecus was living in Southern
France. Can it be supposed that this anthropoid ape breathed a different
air from his congeners, the chimpanzee and gorilla ; and yet if his lungs
required the same air, how could excess of carbonic-dioxide have sup-
plied the extra warm blanket to protect the Spitzbergen magnolia ?
A different configuration of sea and land is the explanation which
many geologists, following Lyell, have advanced for different con-
ditions of climate. And no doubt aerial and oceanic currents, such as
now cause the trade-winds and Gulf Stream, are responsible for great
variations of climate, while low lands in low, and high lands in high
latitudes must always have had a considerable influence in raising or de-
pressing temperature. But changes of this description can more readily
account for the cold of the Glacial, than for the heat of the Tertiary and
preceding periods. We have now got the trade-winds and the Gulf
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 41
Stream in the North Atlantic, and although the diversion of the latter
might bring the ice-cap back to London and New York, and make the
climate of Scandinavia and Scotland the same as that of Greenland and
Labrador, its presence takes us a very short way towards enabling mag-
nolias to flourish in Spitzbergen.
In like manner, even if Croll's theory were established, which it is far
from being, and the effect of the obliquity of the earth's axis combined
with precession, though imperceptible while the earth's orbit was nearly
circular, became great in the two hemispheres alternately, when the
orbit was approaching its maximum eccentricity, this would not explain
the high and uniform temperature of past geological ages. If this theory
were true, what we should look for would be two or three Glacial periods
in the course of each geological epoch; for the least time required for any
of the great geological formations must have been long enough to include
two or three secular variations of the earth's orbit, from minimum to
maximum eccentricity. And each of these Glacial periods must have in-
cluded several changes, alternating, at intervals of 11,000 years, between
severe cold and genial heat, owing to the effect of the precession of the
equinoxes combined with great eccentricity.
Instead of uniform warmth, there must have been more than 100
Glacial periods during the immense lapse of time between the dawn of
life in the Cambrian, and the last of such periods in the Quaternary. It
is a moot point with geologists whether traces of a single one of such
periods, prior to the last one, have been found. There are a few con-
glomerates which look very like consolidated boulder-clays, and every
now and then we hear of some formation, supposed to be glaciated, be-
ing found in the Permian and in other formations in India, South Africa,
and Australia; but there is no evidence hitherto which commands the
general assent of geologists, for a single Glacial period prior to the recent
one which closed the Tertiary period. And there is abundant evidence
that during many formations, such as the Carboniferous and Coal-
measures, which must have taken millions of years to accumulate, there
were no vicissitudes of climate such as must have inevitably occurred if
any astronomical cause, such as precession or eccentricity, had been suffi-
cient to bring about great vicissitudes of heat and cold. And what is
still more conclusive, the evolution of vegetable and animal life, as shown
by fossils, affords no trace of the repeated modifications which must have
taken place within the limits of the same geological formation, if there
had been such vicissitudes of heat and cold as the theory requires.
It remains to be considered whether any change in the direction of the
earth's axis may have been possible. Clearly no such change can have
taken place within the earth itself, for its shape is that of an oblate
spheroid, revolving round its present axis. Any displacement of the
poles must displace the present equator, and tend to establish a new one
on a different plane. But the equatorial diameter of the earth if a6 mils*
42 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
longer than the polar diameter, so that any displacement of the poUt
must have tended to displace this enormous mass of protuberant matter,
and send such portion of it as was fluid in a diluvian wave, miles in
height, towards the new position of equilibrium; while the solid portion
remained in a plane no longer coincident with that of the earth's rotation.
There is no trace of anything of the sort having ever occurred, and if the
axis has shifted, the whole earth has shifted with it, which is just what
astronomers declare to be impossible by any known laws.
But are the whole of the laws really known ? There is nothing more
difficult than to account for the varying inclinations of the axes of rota-
tion of the different bodies of the solar system. On the nebular hypo-
thesis, which traces the sun, planets, and satellites back to the conden-
sation of a revolving mass of nebulous matter, one might have expected
to find the planes of rotation and revolution of planets and satellites, not
only in the same general direction from west to east, but nearly coinci-
dent Jupiter, however, is the only one of the planets which fulfills this
condition. Its axis of rotation is inclined at an angle of 87°, or very
nearly at right angles, to the plane of its revolution round the sun. But
there is no certain rule. That of Saturn, which comes next in order on
the outside of Jupiter, has an inclination of 64° while that of the next
planet on the inside, Mars, is 61° 18'. The earth's axis is inclined at
66° 33', while we find its satellite, the moon, rotating like Jupiter in a
plane inclined only i° 30', and the axis of Venus, on the other hand, is
so oblique, that in its winter the Arctic Circle almost extends to the
equator.
The case of the moon is most difficult to understand, for on any
theory of its origin, whether as a condensed ring left behind as the neb-
ulous matter of the earth contracted, or whether it was ejected from the
earth in some eruption of its fiery stages, it might have been expected to
retain nearly the same rotatory motion as its parent orb. But if so,
clearly some unkown force must have intervened, either to make the
earth's axis more, or that of the moon less oblique, than they were orig-
inally. No such force is known, nor has any plausible guess been made
as to what might have occasioned it ; but the same observation applies
to many of the phenomena of the solar system. How has the supply of
solar heat been kept up for the time required by geology ? How does
the energy we call gravitation act across space from atom to atom, and
from star to star, and how is its supply maintained ? Why is the axis
of the earth inclined at an angle of 66° 30' to the ecliptic, while that of
Jupiter is almost perpendicular to it, and that of Venus oblique to the
extent of nearly two-thirds of a right angle ?
These are all problems which depend on natural laws, and must lie
within the limits of human reason ; but they are pebbles which have not
f et been picked up on the shore of the ocean of truth. It may bring
home to us the force of Newton's saying that w« are but as children pick-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE,
43
ing up such pebbles when we see what a multitude of the deepest prob-
lems, as to the constitution of the earth and of the universe, are raised
by the simple fact that Captain Nares brought back a specimen of coral
from latitude 81° 40' in Greenland, and that luxuriant forests, of a sub-
tropical or warm temperate vegetation, flourished in Spitzbergen as
lately as the period when an anthropoid ape of the stature of man was liv-
ing in the south of France, and when man himself or his savage progeni-
tors, were possibly or even probat/1/ already chipping flints into rude im-
plements.
CHAPTER !V.
THE GLACIAL PERIOD.
THE date and duration of the Glacial period present a problem which
is in many respects of the highest interest. It comes nearest to us
as inaugurating the recent period in which we live, and for which we have
historical data. It affords the best chance of obtaining an approximate
standard by which to measure geological time in years or centuries. And
it touches directly on the great question of the Origin of Man.
For man is like the mammoth and cave bear, an essential part of the
Quaternary fauna, and whatever doubts may be entertained as to his ex-
istence in Tertiary times, there can be none as to the fact that his remains
are found in great numbers, and widely scattered over the four quarters of
the globe, in conjunction with those of the mammoth and other
characteristic Quaternary mammals, in deposits which date, probably from
the earlier, and certainly from the intermediate and later stages of the
Glacial period. A short date, therefore, for that period shortens that for
which we have positive proof of the existence of man, and a very short
date reduces it to a length during which it is simply impossible that such
a state of things as is found existing in Egypt 7000 years ago could have
grown up by natural laws and evolution, and therefore brings us back to
the old theories of repeated and recent acts of supernatural interference,
which, since the works of Lyell and of Darwin, have been generally con-
sidered to be completely exploded.
The question, therefore, is one of the highest theological as well as
scientific importance, and as such it has too often been approached with
theological prepossessions. An extreme instance of this is afforded by
Sir J. Dawson, who in his work on Fossil Man assigns 7000 years as the
probable date for the first appearance of man upon earth, ignoring the
fact that at this date a dense and civilized population already existed in
Egypt, with a highly-developed language and system of writing and
religion; and that the types of the various races of mankind, such as the
Negro, the Copt, the Semitic, and the Arian, are as clearly distinguished
in the paintings in Egyptian tombs, 5000 years ago, as they are at the
present day.
Sir J. Dawson, however, though an excellent geologist as long as the
older formations are concerned, is so dominated by the desire to square
44
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE, 45
facts with the account of creation in Genesis, that he becomes totally un-
reliable when the human era is approaching.
Quite recently, a very different authority, Professor Prestwich, reason-
ing on strictly scientific grounds, concludes, " that the Glacial period, or
epoch of extreme cold, may not have lasted longer than from 15,000 to
25,000 years, and the Post-Glacial period of the melting away of the ice-
sheet to from 8000 to 10,000 years or less ; giving to palaeolithic man no
greater antiquity than perhaps about 20,000 to 30,000 years, while should
he be restricted to the so-called Post-Glacial period, his antiquity need
not go farther back than from 10,000 to 15,000 years before the time of
neolithic man."
Prestwich cannot be accused of theological bias, and in fact this esti-
mate is as inconsistent with theological theories of Adam and Noah, as if
the figures were multiplied tenfold. But he was influenced by the wish
to make geological time accord with the short-date estimates of Sir W.
Thomson, as to the possible duration of solar heat. Be this as it may,
the fact that an authority like Prestwich reduces to 20,000 years a period
to which Lyell and modern geologists generally have assigned a duration
of more like 200,000 shows in what a state of uncertainty we are as to
this vitally important problem. For even the longest period for man's
antiquity assigned by Prestwich would be clearly insufficient to allow for
the development of Egyptian civilization as it existed 7000 years ago,
from savage and semi-animal ancestors, and still less for the evolution of
the human race from earlier types, as is proved to have been the case
with the horse, stag, elephant, ape, and other mammals, with whom man
is so intimately connected, both in physical structure and in geological
association.
It is highly important, therefore, to consider the grounds on which
the various theories are based, of the probable cause and duration of the
Glacial period. The first natural guess was to attribute it to the preces-
sion of the equinoxes. Owing to this cause the North Pole is alternately
turned towards the sun every summer, and away from it every winter,
the reverse being the case in the southern hemisphere. But owing to the
eccentricity of the earth's orbit, the duration of the seasons is not exactly
equal, and summer and winter may occur either when the earth is nearest
to or farthest away from the sun. At present winter occurs in the North-
ern hemisphere when the earth is nearest the sun and moving with the
greatest velocity, so that it is shorter by some days, and summer longer,
than in the Southern hemisphere. Now it is a fact that what may be
called a Glacial period prevails at present in the Southern hemisphere,
while corresponding latitudes in the Northern hemisphere enjoy a tem-
perate climate. It might be thought that this fact afforded an explana-
tion of the Glacial period ; but this conjecture is negatived when it is
considered that this revolution of the earth's axis is periodical, and com-
pleted in about 22,000 years, so that if it were the sole or principal cause
45 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
of Glacial epochs, they must have recurred from the beginning of geolog-
ical time at this short interval, which is altogether inconsistent with the
evidence of facts.
Croll expanded this crude theory into one which had vastly more
plausibility, viz., that although the effects of precession might be imper-
ceptible while the earth's orbit was nearly circular as at present, they
might become very powerful when they coincided with one of the long
periods at which the earth's orbit became flattened out into an ellipse of
maximum eccentricity. He showed by calculation that one such period
began 24,000 years ago, attained its maximum in 80,000 years, and passed
away about 80,000 years before the present era. These figures fitted in
so well with those deduced by Lyell and other eminent geologists from
geological data, that Croll's theory received very general acceptance.
But it is open to the same objection, though in a less degree, that it re-
quires us to assume a periodical succession of Glacial epochs. The os-
cillations of the eccentricity of the earth's orbit, about its maximum and
minimum limits, though slow as measured by centuries, are not so slow
according to the standards of geological time. Croll's calculations have
shown that another position, such as is assumed to have caused the latest
Glacial period, must have occurred 500,000 years earlier. The calcula-
tions have not been carried further back, but it is tolerably certain that,
if Croll's theory be correct, at least two or three Glacial periods must
have occurred during each of the great geological epochs. This is op-
posed to geological evidence. The Permian is the only formation in
which what looks like traces of glacial action have been unmistakably
found, and even these are considered doubtful by many geologists. Still
more doubtful are the proofs of older Glacial epochs deduced from iso-
lated cases of boulders, as in the Miocene conglomerate of Monte Superga,
near Turin, the Flysch of Switzerland, and in some of tne conglomerates
of the old Devonian. "Not proven " is the verdict which most geolo-
gists would return on the few alleged instances of earlier Glacial periods;
while if Croll's theory were true, we might expect to find them frequently.
Above all, it is difficult to conceive how two or three great changes of
temperature could have occurred during each geological formation with-
out showing unmistakable traces in the fauna, and still more distinctly in
the flora, of the epoch. Ferns must have died out and been succeeded
by mosses ; and these in their turn given place to ferns two or three times
over or more, during the growth of the Coal-measures, if any changes of
climate had occurred at all resembling those of the recent Glacial period.
The confidence, therefore, with which Croll's theory was at first re-
ceived has been a good deal shaken, and although many geologists
still believe that it may have been one among other causes of the last
great refrigeration, it can no longer be considered as affording a reliable
standard by which to measure the time in historical years, either of the
Quaternary, or still less of any previous geological epoch.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 47
We have to fall back, therefore, on the geological evidence of deposi-
tion and denudation, of the rise and fall of continents, of the erosion of
rivers, valleys, and so forth, in any attempt to decide between the 200, ooo
years of Lyell, and the 20,000 years of Prestwich. The former period,
based on the minute and careful investigations of Lyell, Geikie, Croll, and
other eminent geologists, held the field until the recent attempts of Prest-
wich and others to reconcile geology with Sir W. Thomson's theory of
solar heat, by reducing geological time to about one-tenth of the ac-
cepted amounts.
Prestwich, in his recently-published works on geology, states that he
has been influenced mainly by two considerations.
1. The wish to bridge over the wide chasm between geologists and
physicists as to the possible duration of the supply of solar heat
2. The difficulty of conceiving that man could have existed for
a period of 80,000 or 100,000 years without change and without pro-
gress.
And the principal, or rather the sole fact on which he relies is, that
the advance of the glaciers of Greenland is found to be much more rapid
than that of the Swiss glaciers upon which previous theories had been
based of the time required for the advance of the Scandinavian and Lau-
rentian ice-fields over Northern Europe and America,
The two considerations may be briefly discussed. The first, as I have
already shown, is based on a theory as to solar heat which is in the high-
est degree uncertain, and which requires rather to be tested by the posi-
tive facts of geology than accepted as an admitted conclusion, to which
those facts must be squared. To allow it to distort those facts, or even
to influence us in interpreting them, is a prepossession only one degree
less mischievous than the theological prepossession which so long retarded
the progress of true science.
The second consideration, as to the rate of human progress, is a mere
question of what each individual inquirer may think probable estimates,
which will depend very much on his habit of mind and previous bias.
There are positively no facts on which to base a conclusion as to the rate
of progress of isolated savage tribes living in the hunter stage, without
contact with more civilized races. The Australian savages, the South
African bushmen, the Negritos of the Andaman Islands, may have lived
as they were first found by Europeans, any time you like from loco to
100,000 years, for aught we know to the contrary. There is, in fact, no
record of any such savage race emerging into comparative civilization by
any effort or natural progress of its own. Even much more advanced
races trace back their knowledge of the higher arts and civilization to
some divine stranger, like the Peruvian Manco-Capac, or Chaldaean Cannes,
who lands on their shores : or else, like the Egyptians, assign these in-
ventions to gods, which means that they are lost in the mists of antiquity.
The neolithic men of Europe were clearly invaders, who brought a higher
48 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
civilization with them from Asia, and the knowledge of polished stone and
metals was diffused by commerce.
It is incorrect, however, to say that palaeolithic man shows no signs of
change or progress. On the contrary, the evidence of palaeolithic deposits
shows everywhere a progress which, although it may have been extremely
slow, is uniformly in the same direction, viz., upwards. There is no ex-
ception in the hundreds, or rather thousands of instances in which pa-
laeolithic implements have been found, to the law that the rudest imple-
ments are found in the lowest deposits, and that improvements are traced
in an ascending scale with ascending strata. This is most markedly the
case in caves, where, as in Keat's Cavern, deposits of different ages have
been kept distinct and securely sealed under separate sheets of stalagmite.
In the rock-shelters also, and river gravels, in which the relative antiquity
is proved by their higher or lower levels, the same law prevails. In the
oldest, where the cave bear and mammoth are the characteristic fossils, the
stone axes, knives and scrapers are of the rudest description. The celts
or hatchets are mere lumps of stone, roughly chipped, and with a blunt
butt-end, evidently intended to be held in the hand. In the next stage
we find finer chipping, and celts adapted for hafting ; while arrow and
javelin heads appear, at first rude, but gradually becoming barbed and
finely wrought. Still late, with the advent of the reindeer in large herds,
affording in their horns a softer material than stone, a remarkable im-
provement takes place, and eyed needles, barbed harpoons, and in some
cases engraved and sculptured portraits of animals of the chase, testify to
a decided advance in the arts of civilization. Above all these, come the
weapons and implements of the Neolithic age which, as already stated, are
separated by a sharp line from the earlier records of palaeolithic man.
No polished stone has ever been found in deposits belonging clearly to
the Palaeolithic period, and a decided change has taken place in the fauna,
which in the Neolithic age corresponds closely with that of recent times,
in the same locality.
It is impossible, therefore, to deny that both change and progress have
existed from the first appearance of man, and there are absolutely no data
to enable us to say what may have been the intervals of time required for
the successive stages of this progress. All we can say is, that the more
nearly primitive man approximated to a state of semi-animal existence, the
slower must have been the steps by which he emerged from it into com-
parative civilization.
We must fall back, therefore, on geology for anything like reliable
data on which to base any estimate of the time required for the Quatern-
ary or any preceding geological epoch. Here, at any rate, we are on com-
paratively certain ground. So many feet of deposition, so many of
erosion, so many of elevation or depression; these are measurable facts
which have been ascertained by competent observers. How much time
required to account for them ? This can only be an approximation,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 49
based on our knowledge of the time in which similar results, on a smaller
scale, have been produced by existing natural laws within the Historical
period. Still, if we argue from natural causes, and ignore imaginary
cataclysms and supernatural interferences, we may arrive at some sort of
maximum and minimum limits of time within which the observed results
must lie.
This was the process by which Lyell and his school of geologists arrived
at their estimates of geological time, and it is only by a careful study of
their works that it is possible to see how closely the chain is woven, and
what a mass of minute investigations support their conclusions. The
one solid fact which Prestwich opposes to them is the rapid advance of
the glaciers of Greenland. Recent observations by Rink and other ex-
plorers have shown that the fronts of these glaciers advance much more
rapidly than the rate which has been assumed from the advance of the
Swiss glaciers.
The average rate of advance of the great glaciers which discharge them-
selves into Baffin's Bay is about 35 feet daily, or 2| miles yearly. Cal-
culating from these data, Prestwich arrives at the conclusion that the old
ice-sheets which radiated from the Scandinavian and Canadian mountains
to a distance of about 500 miles, might have been formed in from 4000 to
6000 years. The great changes which have taken place since the retreat
of the ice-sheets, he accounts for by supposing that with a greater rainfall
these changes went on much more rapidly than they have done during the
Historical period. These views, however, did not command the assent
of other eminent geologists, who were present when Professor Prestwich's
paper was read, and they are open to very obvious objections.
The rate of advance of a glacier thrust outwards by such an immense
mass of ice as caps Greenland, through a narrow fiord, on a steep de-
scending gradient, into a deep sea which floats off its front in icebergs,
affords little test of the advance of an ice-sheet spread out with a front of
1000 miles over a whole continent, unaided by gravity, and obstructed by
ranges of mountains 2000 or 3000 feet high, which it has to surmount
Nor does the rate of advance of such a sheet afford any clue to the time
during which it may have remained stationary, or been receding. The
two latter conditions evidently depend on the climate at the extremity of
the ice-sheet, when the ice pushed forward by it is melted by the summer
heat As long as the climate of Switzerland remains the same, the Swiss
glaciers will remain at their present level, with slight local and temporary
variations ; and this must have been equally true of the great Scandinavian
and Canadian glaciers. They may have advanced in 5000 years, remained
stationary for 50,000 years, and taken 100,000 years to retreat, for any-
thing we know to the contrary, from the Greenland glaciers. Nor is it a
question of one advance and retreat only, for there is distinct evidence of
several advances and retreats, and of prolonged Inter-Glacial periods.
In the cliffs of the east of England four boulder-clays are found, sepa-
50 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
rated by sands and gravels deposited as each ice-sheet successively receded
and melted ; and in France there is evidence of at least one Inter-Glacial
period, sufficiently warm and prolonged to allow the Canary laurel and
fig-tree to supplant the lichen and Arctic willow. The only real test of
time is from the amount of geological work that has been done in the way
of denudation, deposition, elevation, and depression, since Northern
Europe and Northern America were covered by such an ice-cap as now
covers Greenland.
Tried by these tests the conclusions point uniformly to a longer rather
than a shorter duration of the Quaternary, including the Glacial period.
If we take denudation, we may refer to the fact that since palaeolithic man
left his implements on the banks of the old Solent river above Bourne-
mouth, the level of its valley and of the adjacent land has been denuded
by that small stream to a depth of 1 50 feet, and the erosion of the sea now
going on at the Needles has eaten away a wide range of chalk downs,
which were then continuous from the Isle of Wight to Dorsetshire. The
same action of waves and tides as is now eroding Shakespeare's Cliff has
removed the chalk ridge between that cliff and Cape Grisnez, and made
England an island. The valleys of the Thames, the Somme, and other
rivers of the south of England and north of France, have been excavated
to a depth of more than 100 feet and a width of miles, by streams which
have produced no perceptible change since the Roman period. And a
still more striking proof of the immense time which has elapsed since the
Glacial period is afforded by the fact stated in Prestwich's Geology, that
the great basaltic plateau of the Cascade Range in British Columbia,
which is cut through by the Columbia river to the depth of 2000 to 3000
feet, is underlain by the Northern Boulder-drift. Consider what a lapse
of time this requires. Since the Boulder-drift, and therefore since the
Glacial period, vast sheets of basalt must have been poured out by vol-
canoes now extinct, and those sheets of hard rock cut down by river ac-
tion to the levels at which the relics of the old ice-cap now appear.
As regards the erosion of valleys, it is said that there may have been a
much greater rainfall formerly than in historical times, and therefore ero-
sion may have gone on much more rapidly. Doubtless there may have
been more extensive inundations while great masses of ice and snow were
melting under the summer heat of an improving climate, but there seems
no adequate reason to account for a much greater rainfall. The maxim
"ex nihilo nihil fit" applies to rain as to the other operations of nature,
and more rainfall implies more evaporation, brought by warm winds blow-
ing over warm oceans, and deposited when it comes in contact with land
at a lower temperature. We already have these conditions in Western
Europe, and the Gulf Stream and prevalent westerly winds make the cli-
mate more moist and genial than is due to the latitude. To have had it
still more moist these conditions must have been intensified, and there is
no reason to suppose that in recent times, and with the present configura-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 51
tion of sea and land, the Gulf Stream could have been much warmer than
it now is. If the land had extended farther to the westward, the effect
must have been to diminish rather than increase the rainfall in the dis-
tricts where the Somme and the Thames were excavating their valleys ;
and with more extensive forests and morasses rain-water would be ab-
sorbed as in a sponge, and descend more gradually and less in tumultuous
floods.
But even if a greater rainfall were granted, it would not affect the ero-
sion of solid chalk cliffs by the sea, and the argument from the disappear-
ance of the downs between the Isle of Wight and Dorsetshire, and between
France and England, would remain the same. Sir John Lubbock esti-
mates the rate of erosion of a perpendicular cliff of solid chalk at only a
few inches per century, at which rate it must have taken an enormous
time to wear away the chalk ridge between the Needles and Ballard downs ;
but even if we read yards, instead of inches, it must have taken a far
longer time than Prestwich assigns for the whole Glacial period. There
is nothing upon which reliable data are more wanted than as to the rate
of erosion of solid cliffs by the action of the sea, for here the hypothesis
of a larger rainfall and greater floods could not be invoked to accelerate
the rate, as in the case of the erosion of valleys.
If from denudation we turn to deposition, we find equally conclusive
evidence of the immense duration of the Glacial period. The deposit
known as " loess" is universally admitted to be one of fine glacial mud,
deposited tranquilly from sheets of inundation water, which have over-
flowed wide tracts during the melting of the ice and snow, as the climate
improved and glaciers retreated. It is, in fact, just such a loam as the
Arve deposits every summer on the meadows of Chamouni, when the tur-
bid river issues in a swollen stream from the bottom of the mer-de-glace,
and overflows its banks. Now this loess covers, as with a mantle, the
valley systems of all the great rivers of the Northern hemisphere, whose
upper courses lie within the area which was covered by ice and snow dur-
ing the Glacial period. The Rhone, the Rhine, the Danube, the Missis-
sippi, the Yang-tse-kiang, all run through cliffs of loess, which also fills
their tributary valleys and spreads to a considerable height up the slopes
of the hills and over the adjoining plateaux. It lies thickest in the val-
leys, dying off as it ascends the slopes, though it can often be traced to a
height of 2000 or 3000 feet. The thin beds of loess at these heights, and
on the plateaux, are probably the result of the melting of frozen snow ;
but the great masses in the valleys are evidently the accumulations of
mud from the overflows of the existing rivers, as they gradually cut their
valley-systems down from higher to lower levels.
These accumulations invariably correspond to the configuration of the
existing valleys, and overlie coarser sands and gravels, showing that they
have been made since the rivers lost the transporting power which they
possessed, when they ran with a more rapid current during the earlier
S2 HEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
stages of the retreat of the glaciers. The thickness of this accumulation
of fine mud is stated by Lyell to be 800 feet or more above the existing
alluvial plain of the Rhine, and in other rivers it is even greater. It is
impossible that such a thickness could have been accumulated in anything
like the shorter time assumed by some geologists for the duration of the
whole Glacial period. And yet it represents only one phase of its con-
cluding period, and it not only contains human remains but is itself
clearly posterior to many o* the sands and gravels in which remains of
man and his associated Quaternary fauna have been undoubtedly found.
It is difficult to suppose that the loess can have accumulated much
more rapidly than the alluvium of the Nile, which has been proved to
raise the soil :> Egypt at the rate of about three inches in a century.
At this rate it would require 320,000 years to accumulate the 800 feet
assigned by Lyeli to the loess of the Rhine valley. Making every allow-
ance for a quicke rate of deposition, it seems impossible that this de-
posit, which is on-> an interlude in one of the later stages of the Glacial
period, can have been accumulated in anything like the time assigned by
Prestwich for the wh. >le of that period.
If we consider the elevations and depressions of land which have taken
place since the commencement of the Glacial period, the evidence all
points to the same conclusion of immense antiquity. There is a distinct
evidence that since the first epoch of intense cold a great part of Britain
has been surmerged, until only a few of the highest mountains stood
out from the Arctic Sea as an archipelago of frozen islands and has been
since elevated, with several minor fluctuations, to its present height.
Marine shells of an Arctic character have been found on Moel-Tryfane, a
hill in North Wales, in glacial drift 1392 feet above the level of the sea,
and similar drift is traced continuously, both in Wales and Scotland, to
a height of over 2000 feet It rests on rocks which had been already
rounded and polished by glaciers.
It is evident, therefore, that sufficient time must have elapsed during
an intermediate phase of the Glacial period, for a depression of more
than 2000 feet, followed by a re-elevation of an equal amount. Consider
what this means. All we know of these secular movements of large
masses of land shows them to be excessively slow. Even the small local
elevations and depressions, like those of the temple of Serapis at Pozzuoli,
which have taken place principally in volcanic districts, have not ex-
ceeded a few feet in historical times.
The deltas of rivers have increased, and the sea has sometimes eroded
and sometimes added to the outline of coasts, but there has been no
change for more than 2000 years in the general level of sea and land in
any of the districts known to the ancient world. The spit of shingle
which connects St. Michael's Mount with Cornwall, is still covered at
flood and dry at ebb tide, as when the ancient Britons carted their tin
across it to barter with Tyrian merchants. Marseilles is a sea-port, as it
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 53
was when the Phocaean galleys entered its harbor. In Egypt it is evi-
dent that no considerable change of level, either of the land or of the
Mediterranean, can have occurred since Menes embanked the Nile 7000
years ago.
The only authentic record we have of the rise or fall of masses of land
as ascertained by actual measurement, are those of Scandinavia and South
America. The Pacific shore of the latter was upheaved five or six feet
for a distance of 500 or 600 miles, by the shock of a single earthquake,
and remains of human art, such as plaited rushes and string, have been
found in a bed of marine shells near Callao, showing that this part of
the continent had been elevated eighty-five feet since it was inhabited by
man. This, however, gives no clue to the rate of elevation, since we
know nothing of the date of man's appearance in Peru, and the whole
area is one of volcanic disturbance, which has been raised by successive
earthquake shocks, and not by gradual elevation.
In the case of Scandinavia, however, where raised beaches up to the
height of 600 feet above the sea level afford proof of much recent eleva-
tion, and where there are no signs of volcanic action, attempts have been
made to measure the rate accurately by marks cut on rocks. The results,
carefully considered by Sir C. Lyell, show a slow, uniform rate of eleva-
tion of two or three feet in a century, where the rate is at its maximum
at Gefle, ninety miles north of Stockholm, which dies out towards the
North Cape, and is converted into a slow depression in the south of
Sweden. At this rate of three feet per century the depression which
carried the hills of Wales and Scotland 2000 feet down would have re-
quired 66,666 years, and its elevation an equal period, so that without
any allowance for the time the sea-bottom may have remained stationary,
this interlude of the Glacial period would have required 133,333 years.
Of course, it is not implied that this was the real time, or that the rate
both of elevation and depression may not have been faster ; but all the
evidence points to its having been gradual and not paroxysmal, as there
are no traces of any contemporaneous earthquakes or volcanoes in Wales
or Scotland. And whatever the rate may have been it is scarcely pos-
sible to suppose that it can have been such as to enable us to compress
the whole Glacial and Post-Glacial periods, of which this was only one
of the intermediate phases, within anything like the limits of from 25,000
to 35,000 years assigned to them by Professor Prestwich. On the con-
trary, all the evidence from existing known facts points rather to an ex-
tension than to a contraction of the time assigned by Lyell and Croll,
and if the theory of the latter is correct, it would almost seem as if his
first period of maximum refrigeration, 700,000 years ago, was that of the
formation of the first great ice-cap. And whatever the time may be, it is
clear that in its earlier stages man was already widely distributed over the
earth, while there is the strongest probability that his origin must have
S4 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
taken place very much further back in the Pliocene or even in the Mio-
cene period.
It must always be remembered that while the date of human origins in
years or centuries is a question of great scientific interest, it makes little
difference, as regards the religious and philosophical aspects of the ques-
tion, whether it extends over 50,000 or 500,000 years. In any case, the
fact is beyond question, that it is one of immense antiquity, far trans-
cending any period recorded by history or tradition, and that during this
immense period the course of humanity has been upward and not down-
ward. Man has not fallen but risen, and arts, morals, societies, and civ-
ilization have been slowly developed from an animal-like condition of the
lowest savagery.
Perhaps the issue between the long and short dates of the Glacial pe-
riod can be most closely joined if we take that portion of it which comes
nearest to historical times, and is known as the Post-Glacial. Prestwich
assigns to this period a duration of " 8000 to 10,000 years or less," that is a
duration of not more than 2000 or 3000 years before the time when we
know for certain that a dense population and high civilization already
existed in Egypt and Chaldaea. I am not aware that he assigns any rea-
son for this highly improbable date, except the conjecture that the erosion
of river valleys may have gone on more rapidly, owing to a greater rain-
fall.
Now the duration of this Post Glacial period is a question, not of con-
jecture or theory, but of a vast number of definite and measurable facts.
In the British Islands these facts have been carefully examined and ascer-
tained with great accuracy, mainly by the labors of the Geological Survey.
An eminent officer of this Survey, Mr. T. Mellard Reade, who has
worked for many years at these beds in Lancashire and Cheshire, and is
one of the best authorities on the subject, read, as recently as in February,
1888, a paper before the Geological Society, in which he gave a minute
description of the successive changes in Post-Glacial times, by which the
Mersey valley and estuary were brought into their present condition, with
an estimate of the time they may have required. His estimate is " that
in round figures 60,000 years for Post-Glacial time is a reasonable one and,
as represented by these changes, well within the mark."
This is not a random estimate, but based on a careful calculation of
the different changes which are shown by sections and borings to have
actually taken place. At the close of the Glacial period the district was
submerged, and the valleys of the old Pre-Glacial rivers were levelled up
to a height of at least 200 feet by marine boulder-clay. The land then
rose until its surface became an undulating upland plain, through which
tne present rivers began to cut the existing valleys. A mass of boulder-
clav 200 feet in depth, and several miles in width, must thus have been
removed by sub-aerial denudation before the next stage, which consisted
of a general depression of the area, as is proved by the fact that borings
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 55
show a series of estuarine deposits with marine shells in places fifty feet
thick, overlying the boulder-clay, and levelling up the inequalities of its
surfac: due to sub-aerial erosion. Above these silts and clays is a peat-
bed containing stools of trees with their roots running down into the
clays below. This is a remarkable deposit, for a similar submerged
forest bed is to be traced all round the shores of the British Islands, from
Devonshire to the Orkneys. Evidently at a recent period, geologically
speaking there has been an age of forests which flourished, and in their
decay formed great beds of peat, in localities where no trees have grown,
within the Historical period. Before these forests could have grown,
the marine silts and clays must have been elevated above the sea to a
sufficient height to become dry land and covered with trees, and the cli-
mate must have been very different from that at present prevailing. It
must have been more of a continental and less of an insular climate, and
in all probability the German Ocean was then dry land, and the British
Islands were connected with an Europe which extended westward up to
i oo fathom line. In no other way can the existence of surmerged forests,
and vast masses of peat with remains of trees, be accounted for in such
isolated islands as those of Orkney and Shetland, now swept by ocean
blasts, and where no vestige of a tree has grown for at least 2000 years,
when a Roman author described them as "carentes sylva,"
But at whatever height the land may have stood during this Forest
period, it is evident that it must have subsided, at any rate to the extent
necessary to bring the submerged forests to their present level of some feet
below low-water mark. Or, indeed, some twenty-four feet more, for there
is evidence that a rise to this extent has taken place, quite recently, along
a considerable portion of the British coast, as shown by raised beaches.
When I say recently, I mean in geological time, for in historical time
there has been no appreciable change of level since the occupation of
Britain by the Romans, or for nearly 2000 years.
In other regions, however, we have still more conclusive evidence of
the great length of time which has elapsed since any appreciable change
has taken place in the physical geography of Europe, and in the present
relative levels of sea and land. The localities described by Homer in the
Odyssey can be identified, and the very cave and beach pointed out in
Ithaca, on which Ulysses was landed by the Phoenician mariners. The
annals of Egypt carry us back still farther, and show that no appre-
ciable change can have taken place in the levels of sea and land in the
Eastern Mediterranean, for at least 7000 years, and probably for much
longer.
With these facts, even if we had no other evidence than that of the
submerged forests, Professor Prestwich's estimate of 8000 to 10,000 years
for the whole Post-Glacial period down to the present time seems totally
inadequate, and Mr. Mellard Reade's of 60,000 years much more prob-
able. In fact, it seems impossible that changes, such as those demon-
56 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
strated to have occurred in the Mersey valley, can have been accomplished
within a period shorter than that which is shown by historical records to
have elapsed in Egypt without perceptible change.
But whether the duration of the Post-Glacial period be more or less, it
is evidently a small fraction of the time which is required to account for
the work done during the preceding Glacial period, or rather periods, for
there is distinct evidence that there were several advances and retreats of
the ice-sheets, and alternations of climates, during some of which the
winter temperature of Western Europe must have been higher than it is at
present The succession of ice-sheets is clearly shown by the sections
afforded by the coast cliffs of the east of England, where four successive
boulder-clays are shown, separated by masses of sand and gravel deposited
during the melting and retreat of each ice-sheet. The alternations of
mild Inter-Glacial with severe Glacial periods, is shown by the frequent
presence in caves of a Southern fauna, some of which, like the hippopot-
amus— which is found as far north as Yorkshire — could by no possibility
have lived in a country where the lakes and rivers were bound in ice for a
great part of the year. And still more conclusively by the presence, in
the south of France, of a vegetation comprising the fig-tree and delicate
Canary laurel, in the region over which, at another period of the Glacial
age, herds of reindeer roamed, feeding on lichens and Arctic-willows, and
accompanied by the musk-ox, the glutton, the lemming, and other ex-
clusively Arctic animals.
But although the evidence for the great antiquity of the Glacial period
seems to be conclusive, it must be confessed that we are as far as ever
from being able to assign any reliable explanation of the causes which
produced it. It came on suddenly, for the interval between the temper-
ate Pliocene and the extreme rigor of the first great ice-sheet is, geolog-
ically speaking, very short Only a few feet of clay and sand separate
the Cromer forest, in which the great southern elephant, the Elephas
Meridionalis, and other southern mammalia roamed, from the boulder-
clay of the Scandinavian ice-sheet, which carried rocks from Lapland and
Norway, across the North Sea and over hills and valleys almost to the
centre of Europe. This first period was the coldest, and after several os-
cillations of heat and cold, each apparently less intense than its predeces-
sor, the climate of the Northern hemisphere finally settled down to its
present conditions.
These facts seem to negative most of the theories, or rather guesses,
which have been hazarded to account for this great and sudden refriger-
ation. It could not be due to any cooling of the earth, for this must
have been gradual and progressive, and the great cold of the first period
instead of decreasing and disappearing, must have gone on increasing.
It has been supposed that the solar system, on its journey through space,
may have entered into, and emerged from, regions very much colder than
those of former ages or at present, but such a cause is at present little
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 5/
more than a conjecture. Nor is it possible that any alteration in the po-
sition of the earth's axis can have occurred within the earth, for this
would have disarranged its equatorial protuberance, which is precisely
that of a fluid mass, rotating about the present axis, and could not be
altered without producing a complete cataclysm. No one can suppose
that an equatorial protuberance of more than 20 miles can have been
shifted through many degrees of latitude, during the short interval be-
tween the close of the Pliocene and the commencement of the Glacial
period.
Neither can the theories which have been applied to earlier geological
epochs, of a warmer blanket of watery vapor and carbonic-dioxide in
the atmosphere, account for such a sudden refrigeration and its gradual
disappearance. The conditions under which the Pre-Glacial Cromer
forest flourished, and tho:e at present exisiting in the same locality, can-
not have been so different as to imply a new order of cosmic or telluric
causes.
There remain only two at all plausible theories, the astronomical one
of Croll, and that of Lyell, who explains everything by a different config-
uration of sea and land. Croll's theory explains many of the facts ad-
mirably, but, as we have seen, it cannot be accepted with confidence, in
the absence of proof that a succession of Glacial periods has occurred in
previous geological epochs. Nor is it very consistent with the fact that
the cold period come on suddenly, and was greatest at first ; while if due
to the eccentricity of the earth's orbit, it ought to have come on gradu-
ally, and only attained its maximum simultaneously with that of the ec-
centricity. Lyell's theory is on the whole most generally accepted, as
actual experience shows that high land in high latitudes is a cause of
glacial conditions, and also that oceanic currents are a main factor in
producing climate.
When we inquire under what conditions great glaciers are now formed,
we find them to be mainly heavy snow-fall conbined with low tempera-
ture. Thus the snow-fall is very heavy on the Pacific slope of the Sierra
Nevada and coast range of Northern California and British Columbia;
but it does not, as formerly, produce glaciers, because the temperature is
not low enough to convert the winter snow into the frozen " neVe " which
is the source of glaciers, and to produce the conditions under which the
accumulation finds its way to lower levels by solid rather than by fluid
rivers. Again, extreme cold does not of itself produce glaciers, as is seen
in Northern Russia and Siberia. The influence of ocean-currents is also
apparent from the effects of the Gulf Stream, which gives open winters to
the coasts and islands of Western Europe, in a latitude as high as that
of the southern extremity of Greenland.
Here, then, are real causes which may account for such a Glacial
period as has been experienced, without invoking utterly unknown and
conjectural theories. But there are considerable difficulties in the way of
58 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
accepting Lyell's theory as the sole and sufficient explanation. The sud-
denness with which the great cold came on is one of them. It is difficult
to suppose that such a great elevation of land in the North Atlantic as
would be required, took place, almost at once, in the short interval in
which the Pliocene passed almost continuously into the Quaternary. We
are tolerably certain, from the similarity of the fauna and flora, that
America was connected with the Old Continent during the Miocene period
by a land passage across the North Atlantic, and yet there are no traces of
a rigorous climate. On the contrary, a climate almost sub-tropical pre-
vailed then in Greenland and Spitzbergen, far within the Arctic Circle.
Again, the Gulf Stream must always have been an important factor in
determining the climate, but recent theories as to the great geological
antiquity of the Atlantic Ocean make it difficult to conceive how this
Stream can have been greatly diverted from its present course, in recent
geological times. And the fact that the ice-cap extended much farther to
the south in North America than in Europe, makes it almost certain that
the influence of the warm Gulf and cold Polar streams must have been
felt during the Glacial period, as they are now. How otherwise can we
account for the fact that the difference of temperature between Europe
and America seems to have been almost the same during the period of
extreme cold in both, as it is now under temperate conditions ? And the
diversion of the Gulf Stream would certainly tend to produce less evap-
oration in the North Atlantic, and therefore less fall of rain or snow on
Northern lands, whereas the contrary is required to account for the ice-
caps. We must conclude, therefore, that while Lyell's theory affords the
most probable explanation, we are still in a state of great uncertainty as
to the causes which may have co-operated in bringing about the last and
greatest vicissitude of climate, the Glacial period, which is so interesting
to us from its close connection with the origin of man. The causes and
duration of the last Glacial period, and whether there have been several,
and if so, how many of such periods in former geological ages, are among
the problems of the future which are pressing for solution.
CHAPTER V.
TERTIARY MAN.
OF all the discoveries of modern science, that of the antiquity of man
has been the most startling. It is not like the abstract discoveries
of astronomy and geology, which only indirectly affect the unscientific
mass of mankind. It shatters at a blow what had been for centuries the
axioms of the whole Christian world, respecting the origin of man, his
place in creation, and the course of his development A literal acceptance
of the dates and narrative of Genesis was assumed to be the sole basis of
knowledge on the subject, and to question what was told by a Divine
revelation was universally considered to be alike ridiculous and impious.
As far as science had a word to say it was thought to confirm theology,
for did not Cuvier himself lay down as an axiom that no human remains
had been found in a fossil state, or in conjunction with the remains of any
of the extinct animals ? And although a few scientific men here and
there, basing their ideas mainly on the dates of Egyptian monuments,
pleaded for a somewhat longer period than the date assigned by Arch-
bishop Usher, there may fairly be said to have been a universal consensus
of opinion among all men, learned or unlearned, that the existence of the
human race on our planet had not lasted longer than some 6000 or 7000
years before the present period. This was the universal opinion only
thirty years ago, wnen in 1859 Mr. Prestwich read his memorable paper
to the Royal Society, confirming the discoveries of M. Boucher de Perthes,
and proving beyond a possibility of doubt that flint implements, fashioned
by human hands, were found in Quaternary gravels, and brick-earths of
the valley of the Somme, in juxtaposition with remains of the mammoth
and other extinct animals, which must have been deposited when the river
ran at more than 100 feet above its present level. The careful explora-
tion of the Devonshire caves of Brixham and Kent's Hole, by committees
of competent geologists, removed the last doubts on the subject, and since
then, evidence has accumulated so rapidly from all quarters of the world,
that the existence of Quaternary man has become as certain a fact as that
the earth revolves round its axis.
Consider what this implies. The Tertiary epoch, in which mammalian
life for the first time appears prominently and an approximation is made
to existing conditions, is itself but a small fraction of the succession of
59
60 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
geological ages since our planet became the abode of animal and vegeta-
ble life. At the outside, its three divisions of Eocene, Miocene, and
Pliocene, may together represent one-twentieth part of the thickness of
fossiliferous strata from the Cambrian to the Cretaceous. The Quaternary
period again is but a fraction of the Tertiary; and the recent or existing
epoch, including the Historic and Pre-Historic, is but a fraction of the
Quaternary. The recent or Historical epoch, characterized by the exist-
ing fauna, and, in the main, by the existing climate and disposition of
sea and land, is certainly not less than 7000 years old, when Egyptian
records and monuments shows us a populous and highly civilized nation
already existing in the valley of the Nile, and civilized empires of almost
as early a date in Chaldaea and China. The Pre-Historic period, charac-
terized by the existing fauna and by neolithic man, must have lasted much
longer, before such empires could have been developed from the rude and
primitive civilization shown by the Scandinavian Kjokken-middens, the
Swiss Lake-dwellings, and other early records of the Neolithic period.
Borings in the Nile valley have everywhere brought up rude pottery, and
other neolithic remains, from depths below the foundations of the oldest
historical monuments, which, at the present rate of silting up by the
annual inundations of the river, imply an antiquity of about 18,000 years.
This may not be quite accurate as a chronological standard in years, but
undoubtedly this, and other similar calculations from physical changes
during the Neolithic period, ",11 point to the conclusion that 15,000 or
20,000 years is the shortest time that can have elapsed since its commence-
ment
Then comes a great break. The climate, geographical and physical
conditions, and fauna, have undergone great changes when we next meet
with traces of man, and the Quaternary period stretches back into the
Pliocene, through an immense though unknown duration of time. This
much however is known, that it embraces two, if not more, great Glacial
periods, during the first and most severe of which the northern halves of
Europe and America were buried under an ice-cap, in places 5000 or 6000
feet thick, resembling that of modern Greenland, and driving all terrestrial
life before it into more southern regions. These Glacial periods alternated
with long Inter-Glacial ages, when the ice retreated, and vegetation and
animal life again returned to their old abodes, and again advanced and
retreated, finally occupying their present stations when the glaciers had
shrunk into the valleys of the loftier mountains.
It is certain also that vast changes in the physical geography, and con-
figuration of sea, land, and rivers, occurred during this period. The
British Islands, or a large portion of them, were at one time submerged
to a depth of certainly 1500, and probably 2000 or 2500 feet beneath an
Arctic sea, presenting nothing above it but an archipelago, of what are now
mountain peaks; while at another time they were part of an European
continent, then connected with Africa, and across which huge extinct
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 61
lions, tigers, bears, elephants, and rhinoceroses roamed, and left their
remains in the caves of limestone districts, and the sands and gravels or
rivers, when they flowed 100 feet or more above their present level.
During part of this period a southern fauna, and even the hippopotamus,
found their way as far north as Yorkshire, testifying to the existence
of great rivers flowing from the south across this Quaternary continent
Now three facts have come out clearly from the latest research,
i. That man is a characteristic member of this Quaternary fauna just as
much as any of these extinct animals ; or, in other words, that wherever
you find the mammoth, cave bear, or woolly rhinoceros, you may expect
to find man; and where you find man in old deposits, you may expect to
find the mammoth, cave bear, and rhinoceros.
2. That the man whom you thus find is "Palaeolithic man," that is,
man in such a rude and savage state that he has not yet attained the art
of polishing stones, and uses implements roughly fashioned by chipping
from flints or other hard stones of the district.
3. That these rude implements are found in the caves and gravels of
the Quaternary period in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America; in fact,
throughout the whole world, so far as it has been hitherto explored; and
whenever they are found, the rudest and earliest implements, such as stone
hatchets or celts, and flint flakes and scrapers, are almost identically of the
same type.
These facts have such an important bearing on the origin of the human
race, that it is desirable to consider them in some detail.
The discoveries, both of implements and of human skulls and skeletons,
have now been so numerous, especially in the caves of France, England,
Germany, and Belgium, that it has enabled geologists not only to prove
the existence of Quaternary man, but to a considerable extent to analyze
and classify the successive stages of his progress.
The earliest is that known as the Cave-bear epoch, which occupies the
lowest position in the oldest caves, and in which the rudest human
implements are found associated with a preponderance of bones belonging
to this formidable animal. Thus in Kent's Cavern, in Devonshire, we
have in descending order —
1. A layer of black mould, near the entrance, from three to twelve
inches thick, containing successively rdics of the Historical and Neolithic
periods, and bones of existing species of animals.
2. A bed of granular stalagmite from one to three feet thick, securely
sealing all below it
3. Red cave earth, in places five to six feet thick.
4- A bed of older crystalline stalagmite, in places twelve feet thick.
5. Breccia of angular stones; red-clay and bones to the rock floor of
the cave.
In the lower deposits (4 and 5) the bones are numerous, but almost
exclusively those of the cave-bear, and a few human implements have
62 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
been found, including a flint hache or celt in the breccia, which is the
oldest deposit of all. In the upper stalagmite, and cave-earth beneath it,
were found numerous human implements of various sorts, including a
bone needle and barbed harpoon, associated with remains of lion, cave-
bear, mammoth, rhinoceros, hyena, reindeer, Irish elk, and other usual
animals of the Quaternary fauna, including one tooth of the Machairodus
or sabre-toothed tiger, which is characteristic of the Pliocene fauna.
Similar facts have been recorded in such a multitude of caves in
France, Belgium, and Germany, especially in those of the South of
France, that it is a perfectly well-established fact that the Palaeolithic
period may be divided roughly into three groups: an upper one, in which
the reindeer was very abundant, and human implements showed a con-
siderable advance in civilization ; a middle stage, in which the reindeer
was scarcer and the mammoth more abundant, with ruder human imple-
ments, though still showing considerable design ; and the lowest of all,
with fewer remains of the mammoth and more of the cave-bear, and with
fewer implements, and those exclusively of stone of a very rude type.
This is exactly what might be expected if the theory of evolution ap-
plies to the human race. The first dawn of intelligence when primitive
man emerged from the animal state, would show itself by his picking up
natural stones to use as tools or weapons of offence. He would naturally
select stones of the type of the hache, with a sharp point for crushing in
the skull, and a blunt butt-end to give weight to the blow and a firm
grasp for the hand. This would hardly require more intelligence than
that of the gorilla, who, living in forests, uses branches of trees as clubs ;
or of apes, who throw stones at enemies. The next stage would be to
improve natural stones, or supply them if deficient, by chipping, so as to
give a sharper and more solid point or edge, and a similar process would
apply to flint chips used as knives or scrapers.
After a while, some genius would discover that by hafting the hache, and
attaching it as a lance to a long handle, he could kill without coming to
such dangerous close quarters as was necessary when striking with the
hand. This would lead to finer chipping, both to ensure penetration at
the point, and to fit the butt-end for attachment. And finally, the in-
vention of the bow would lead to diminished size and still finer chipping
for the arrow-head. From this point the progress can be readily traced
to the invention of barbs for arrows and harpoons, and the occasional
substitution of bone for stone, as being more easily scraped into the de-
sired form ; and from these the evolution is uninterrupted up to the beau-
tifully finished weapons of the Neolithic and Bronze periods. But the
starting-point is the rude stone hache, such as is universally found in the
oldest deposits of caves and river gravels.
There has been a good deal of discussion as to the purposes for which
these implements were employed, but there can be little doubt that their
primary use was for killing large game and human enemies. The bush-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 63
men of South Africa, who represent most nearly this primitive savage state,
use for the purpose implements so closely resembling those of the river
drifts, that some of those exhibited at the Colonial Exhibition, and labelled
' 'four le gros gibier, " might have been specimens from Amiens or St
Acheul.
A good deal of discussion has also taken place among British geologists
as to the exact place, with reference to the great Glacial periods, occupied
by the earliest drift and cave implements which have been found in this
country. Most of them are Post-Glacial, that is, later than the retreat of
the last of the two or more great ice-caps which extended over all except
a few of the southern counties of England during the Quaternary period.
Some, however, are clearly proved to be either Inter-Glacial or Pre-Glacial,
being overlaid by boulder-clay, as at Brandon, and in the caves of Cae
Gwyn in North Wales; while as to the lowest deposits of many caves, as,
for instance, the lower stalagmite and bone breccia of Kent's Cavern, there
is no distinct evidence except of extreme antiquity, though the presump-
tion is strong that they are either Pre-Glacial or Inter-Glacial. Mr. Pen-
gelley, who has devoted years of research to Kent's Cavern, expresses an
unhesitating opinion that the lowest deposits are Pre-Glacial.
As fresh evidence accumulates, it all points towards the existence of
man on British soil in Pre-Glacial, or very early Glacial times, and there-
fore to carry it back far beyond the period assigned to it by Post-Glacial
geologists.
Thus, quite recently, rude palaeolithic implements of unmistakable
human design have been found near Wye, in Kent, at an elevation of up-
wards of 300 feet, in a gravel which does not correspond with the existing
valleys, but which overspread the chalk plateau of the North Downs, and
was drained by rivers running southwards in a directly opposite course to
that of the present streams. Professor Prestwich, whose bias, as we have
seen, is towards shortening the period of man's antiquity, after a personal
examination of the locality, came to the conclusion that this drift was im-
mensely older than the ordinary high-level gravels of existing rivers, and
in all probability was Pre-Glacial.
Since Professor Prestwich's paper was read, similar palaeolithic imple-
ments have been found by Mr. Worthington Smith, on the chalk downs
near Dunstable, up to a height of 759 feet above Ordnance datum, and
some of them embedded in the brown clay which, with gravel, covers the
chalk. But the question of the evidence afforded by England is compara-
tively unimportant, for the wider induction of continental experience settles
conclusively the general relations of palaeolithic man to the Quaternary
period. It is absolutely certain that in the later stages of the palaeolithic
record, when man had already made considerable progress, and was able
to draw and carve figures of the contemporary animals with a good deal
of artistic skill, vast herds of reindeer roamed over the plains of Southern
France and Germany, accompanied by a group of Arctic animals, such as
64 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
the musk-ox and the lemming, which are found even on the Italian side
of the Alps. When this was the case in Southern Europe, it is evident that
all its northern portion and higher mountains must have been covered by
ice and frozen snow, and one of the great Glacial periods must have been
in full force. All earlier deposits, therefore, in which ruder implements and
a more temperate or even African fauna are found, must of necessity have
been either Inter-Glacial or Pre-Glacial, and there is no reasonable doubt
that the earliest of such deposits date back at least to the earlier stages of
the Quaternary period. We must recollect that when we talk of geologi-
cal periods, there was no real break in the succession of time. We merely
use a convenient expression to distinguish those formations, between which
the evidence of the regular progression of development has been lost for
such a long period, that when we find it again the characteristic fauna and
flora have undergone a marked change. But the idea of cataclysms and
of repeated destructions and miraculous renovations of the whole vegeta-
ble and animal worlds, is completely exploded, and every day affords
fresh evidence of the gradual process of transition from one so-called epoch
or formation to the succeeding one. Thus types and even species appear
sparingly in one formation become abundant in another, and finally die
out and disappear, or persist with slight modifications, as we see in the
first appearance of fish in the Silurian, and of reptiles in the Carboniferous
eras, in each case in one or two geological periods before they become the
predominant type. This applies specially to the relation of the Quater-
nary to the Pliocene and Miocene periods. It is difficult to say definitely
where one begins and the other ends. Thus not only do most of the
great Mammalian genera persist from the Miocene through the Pliocene
and Quaternary, down to the recent periods, but some specific forms, such
as the tapir, have continued unchanged; while the ox, bear, horse, wild
boar, and other species first found in the Pliocene, survive through the
Quaternary to the present day.
The gravels and sands of St. Prest the forest bed of Cromer, and other
Pre-Glacial formations, contain such a mixture of characteristic mammals,
that some geologists have considered them to be Pliocene, while others have
pronounced them to be Quaternary.
What we really can affirm with certainty is, that as soon as we find a
Quaternary fauna firmly established, we find man forming an essential and
characteristic part of it. Can he be traced further back into the Tertiary?
The question involves points of the highest interest, for, as in the issue be-
tween short-time and long-time geologists as to the duration of the Glacial
period, the issue really is between evolution and miracle.
Even if the Glacial or Quaternary periods were extended to the 200,-
ooo years assigned to them by Lyell, Croll, Geikie, and other leading
geologists, the difficulty as to man being a produce of evolution would be
only postponed and not removed. By no possibility could such condi-
tions of the human race as are found at the commencement of the Quater-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 65
nary period have been produced by the natural laws applicable to the
rest of the animal creation, unless man can be carried back into the Ter-
tiaries.
For under what circumstances do we find undoubted traces of the exist-
ence of man upon earth, early in the Quaternary period ? Not in small
numbers, or in some limited locality, in which we may suppose the human
species to have originated, and from which we can trace the different
races slowly developing and radiating out to more distant regions. No,
when we find them lowest in the Quaternary, we find them in large num-
bers, and practically all over the world, from China to Peru, and from
Northern Europe to South Africa.
This is so important that I proceed to state the facts in some detail,
and specify the localities in which stone hatchets and knives, of the rude
type of the oldest river drifts and oldest cave deposits, have been found
in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America.
The list is doubtless incomplete, and every day is adding to it, but it
is already amply sufficient to prove the general proposition.
In England they have been found in the river drifts and deposits of the
Thames, the old Solent river, and all the existing and Quaternary valley
systems south of a line drawn across ?t, a little to the north of the Bed-
ford Ouse ; and in the caves of all the limestone districts of Yorkshire,
Derbyshire, North and South Wales, Somersetshire, and Devonshire, and
they are absent only in those northern districts which were covered with
ice during the successive phases of the Glacial period. In France and
Belgium they are met with in the oldest drifts of the valleys of the Seine,
Somme, Meuse, Loire, Rhone, Garonne, and other rivers, and in almost
innumerable caves and rock-shelters in all the limestone districts, from
Liege and Maestricht to the Pyrenees, and on the Mediterranean coast at
Mentone. In Spain and Portugal they appear in the drifts of the Tagus
and Ebro, and in Italy in those of the Tiber and Arno. In Central and
Southern Germany and Switzerland they are found in numerous caves
and river drifts, often deeply buried under thick beds of the loess, or fine
glacial mud, which was deposited during the melting of the great ice-fields.
In Asia these palaeolithic implements, associated with extinct animals,
have been found almost everywhere, where search has been made for
them They have been found in Asia Minor and Syria, in the Caucasus,
in Mongolia, China, and Japan. India, which has been examined by
competent geologists, affords the most authentic and complete record.
Here they have been found in large numbers, both in the river drifts of
the Nerbudda, Godavery, and other rivers, and in the laterite of Madras
and other places, which is a loamy land-deposit similar to that of the
loess of Europe and China. Implements almost exactly of the type of
those of St. Acheul, though made of quartzite, as flints were wanting,
have been found in Bengal, Orissa, the Deccan, Scinde, Assam, and
other provinces ; and some of them in deposits which, from the extinct
66 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
animals associated with them, experienced geologists are doubtful whether
to consider as upper Pliocene or as the lowest Quaternary.
In Africa, well characterized palaeolithic implements have been found
in Algeria and in the valley of the Nile, and at the other extremity of
the continent, at Natal and other places in Cape Colony.
America furnishes some of the most conclusive proofs, both of the ex-
treme antiquity, and of the wide diffusion of man. Human implements,
human skulls and bones have been found associated with the mastodon
and other extinct animals, over nearly the whole area of the United States ;
in Mexico, Brazil, and in the pampas of Buenos Ayres and Patagonia ;
associated in South America with the Glyptodon and other extinct mam-
mals of its peculiar fauna. In one instance, in Buenos Ayres, a human
skull was found under a huge carapace of this extinct armadillo, which
it was conjectured might have been used as a roof for a hut In these
South American cases, however, as well as in those which will presently
be referred to from Califorina, the geological age is uncertain, and they are
considered by some to be evidences of Pliocene, by others of early Qua-
ternary man ; while in other instances they are probably Post-Glacial, or
at latest, Inter-Glacial. But in one typical case, that of the discoveries
of Mr. Abbot in the drift of the Delaware valley at Trenton, in New Jersey,
there can be no hesitation in referring them to the same early Quaternary
period as the corresponding finds in the oldest river drifts of Europe and
Asia. The Trenton implements are of a granular argillite, exactly resem-
bling in size and form the flint implements of the valley of the Somme ;
and they are found sometimes twenty feet deep, in an old bed of gravel,
with large boulders, which is exposed in the cliffs of the river's banks.
A portion of a human lower jaw was found at a depth of sixteen feet in
the gravel, and also a human skull of a peculiar type, being small, long,
and very thick.
We are able, therefore, to affirm as an undoubted fact, that at the
earliest stage of the Quaternary period the human species not only existed,
but was already widely diffused over four continents, and occupied near-
ly the whole surface of the habitable globe. How did man get there ?
Evidently by the same process by which other fauna become distributed
over wide distances and extensive zoological provinces, that is, by migra-
tion from one or more centres, where the different species were first de-
veloped in the course of evolution. In the case of land mammals, this
implies where there has been an uninterrupted land connection within re-
cent geological periods.
There is no fact better established by geological and zoological research,
than that the existing fauna are not uniformly alike throughout the world,
but are located in separate provinces, bounded *• y some barrier of sea,
mountain, or desert, insurmountable by the ordinary animal species. The
most signal instance of this is that of the absolute separation of the two
totally dissimilar faunas of Southern Asia and Australia, by the narrow
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 67
strait of Lombok, not above twenty miles wide, which is a deep sea fis-
sure or channel, dating back to very remote geological times. On the
other hand, in the north temperate zone of Europe and Asia one may
travel from the Atlantic coast of Western Europe to the Eastern coast of
China, without observing any marked change in the familiar fauna and
flora, the extension of which to the British Islands and Japan, leaves no
doubt that they recently formed part of the same continent; while the
existence of so many of the same forms in North America, makes it cer-
tain that there was a land connection, at no distant geological date, be-
tween the Old and New Worlds, by what is now the North Atlantic, and
probably also by Behring's Straits. The familiar instance of the absence
of snakes in Ireland, shows clearly how this extension of a fauna was ac-
complished by gradual migration. Ireland was connected with England
and with continental Europe long enough to enable most forms of the
European fauna to occupy it. Herds of Irish elk, deer, oxen, wolves,
and other animals roamed over it; but some of the slower moving rep-
tiles had not had time to reach it before it became finally separated from
England by St. George's Channel.
The only alternative to migration is the special miraculous creation of
every seperate species which has ever existed throughout the vast range of
geological time, and, this idea is as thoroughly exploded as that of the
absence of snakes in Ireland being due to the prayers of St Patrick in the
seventh or eighth century. It breaks down under the weight of the
innumerable instances of special miracles, which must be invoked on the
most trivial occasions. Thus it has been shown that more than 160
miraculous creations must have taken place to account for the separate
species of land-shells alone, which are peculiar to the little group of the
Madeira Islands.
Admitting, then, evolution to be the cause of the origin of species, and
migration for their diffusion, it must be observed that the human species
is specially organized for extensive migration. The structure of man, and
his intelligence, even in the most rudimentary form, enable him to over-
come obstacles and resist changes of climate and environment, which
would be fatal to most of the brute creation. And as a matter of fact, in
historical times we know that New Zealand and the Pacific Islands have
been peopled by migration; and that races like the Bushmen, Esquimaux,
and Australians, which come nearest to the state of primitive men, are
essentially migratory. If the population of America were annihilated,
with the exception of the Esquimaux and Fuegians, there is little doubt
that they would creep onwards along the sea-coast, accumulating their
Kjokkenmiddens as they went, until they had occupied the whole
continent. But the process must necessarily have been a very slow one,
and there must have been already a considerable population and pressure
on the means of subsistence, before these Quaternary men could have
spread over nearly the whole habitable globe, and left their remains where
68 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
we now find them. The fact that they are so found makes it certain that
they npist have had a long series of ancestors, and that the first origins of
the b eman race must be sought in a vastly more remote antiquity. The
immense time required for such migrations will be apparent when we con-
sider that it is not only a question of traversing such great distances, but
much more of becoming gradually acclimatized during the passage from
Arctic, or temperate, through tropical regions. Evidently the existing
Esquimaux or Laplanders could not reach Patagonia or South Africa,
without passing through a wide extent of hot and pestilential country, in
which the northern immigrants could only live by the gradual survival of
new types adapted to the altered conditions.
Another well-established fact points to the great antiquity of the human
race when those early palaeolithic implements were so widely distributed.
A sufficient number of skulls and skeletons have been found associated
with these implements to enable ethnologists to classify them as belong-
ing to essentially different races. Thus the skulls found in America all
present distinctive characters of the high and narrow type now existing
among the various native races of that continent. In Europe, those of
the Canstadt type, which is considered to be the oldest, and of which the
celebrated Neander-thil skull, is an extreme instance, are very dolicoce-
phalic, or long-headed, with markedly projecting brows, differing essen-
tially from those of the Cro-Magnon type, which represent an exception-
ally tall race with a good cranial development, equal to that of many
modern European races; while the Furfooz type again, is that of a dwarf-
ish race, with small round heads, resembling the modern Laplanders.
This diversity of race argues for a long departure from the original type,
involving development through a long series of ages. We know from the
Egyptian monuments that a period of 5000 years has been insufficient to
produce any perceptible change in the type of the Negro and Copt, the
Semite, and other races of Africa and Western Asia.
It is remarkable, however, that while this diversity of race type is thus
early found, there is almost perfect identity among the early palaeolithic
implements found in regions the most distant frcxn one another. Rude
stone hatchets, knives, and scrapers, are of the same form and fabricated
in the same way, whether they come from the gravels of the Delaware,
the Thames, the Tagus, the Godavery, or the Yang-tse-Kiang ; from the
caves of Devonshire, the deserts of Mongolia, or the plains of Patagonia
and South Africa. The only apparent exception is afforded by the stone
implements found in the auriferous gravels of California, which consist
mainly of rude stone mortars and pestles, resembling those used for
pounding acorns by modern tribes of Digger Indians, inhabiting the same
districts. This uniformity of industrial type over such wide spaces shows
that the peopling of the earth by migration must have been effected while
the human race was still in that uniform state of rudimentary intelligence,
which had not got beyond the first stage of supplementing natural stones
by rude chipping.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 69
Thus far we have beer g"nng on ascent aed facts, admitted by all
competent geologis s, but m taking the next step and carrying man back
into the Tertiaries, we enter on new ground, where positive evidence is
scanty and disputed, and where probabilities and theoretical preconcep-
tions are to a grea1: extent invoked to supply its want Among English
geologists especially, there sti remains a strong desire to abridge as
much as possible the time of man's existence upon earth. The evidence
furnished by England, which has been almost entirely covered during re-
cent geological times by two or more successive ice-sheets, is compara-
tively weak to carry back the evidence for palaeolithic man, even into
Pre-Glacial times, and some good authorities still contend for all such
remains in this country being Post-Glacial. Others, again, of less weight,
and the general public who have a smattering of science, have a vague
fear that every extension of man's antiquity carries them further away
from the old theological standpoint, and brings them nearer to the proof
that man is the product of evolution from an animal ancestry. The evi-
dence of facts has, however, become too strong to maintain this ground,
and the Quaternary line of defence being broken through, the defenders
of old ideas have fallen back on their next entrenchment, and insist that
man, if not Post-Del uvian, or Post-Glacial, is at any rate Post-Tertiary.
We pass here from the region of facts universally admitted, into that
of probabilities, and statements of facts which although probable in
themselves, and apparently well authenticated, are still disputed by com-
petent authorities. Let us first deal with the probabilities for and against
the existence of Tertiary man. It is objected that an animal so highly
organized and specialized as man, can hardly have come into existence in
geological periods characterized by a fauna, so much nearer the primitive
and generalized type of Mammals, as those of the Pliocene, and still
more of the Miocene and Eocene eras. The answer to this is that such a
highly specialized specimen of the anthropoid type as the Dryopithecus
undoubtedly did exist in the Middle-Miocene. This, which was an
anthropoid ape, as highly organized as the chimpanzee or gorilla, and of
a stature equal to that of man, has been found in that formation in the
South of France and in Germany. Now, looking at man simply as an
animal, the anthropoid ape is just as much a sp'ecialized development of
the primitive quadrumanous type as man. Monkeys and apes are
specialized for life in forests and climbing trees, as man is for life on the
earth and walking, but in their anatomical structure they correspond bone
for bone and muscle for muscle. If their is any truth in evolution they
must have descended, not necessarily one from the other, but both from
a common ancestor.
Again, it is said that man could not have survived for such a succession
of geological periods during which so many other species have died out
and disappeared. But here again the answer is, that many of the animals
which are associated with man as part of the Quaternary fauna, have in
70 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
fact survived unchanged from the Pliocene, and with slight modifications
from the Miocene periods, and that man's larger brain, and consequently
greater intelligence, must have given him a better chance of survival than
in the case of elephants, rhinoceroses, oxen, and horses. If man could
survive, as we know he did, the severe and extreme fluctuations of the
different Glacial, Inter-Glacial, and Post-Glacial periods, what was there
in the milder and more equable conditions of the Pliocene and Miocene
to have prevented his existence ?
The theoretical objections, therefore, to Tertiary man seem to be of the
weakest and vaguest character, while on the other hand, the probabilities
in its favor are so cogent as almost to amount to demonstration. How
could man, early in the Quaternary period, have already found his way to
the remotest regions of the globe, and developed a variety of types and
races, if his first appearance on earth lay within the limits of that period ?
One might as well suppose that elephants, horses, and all the other mam-
mals associated with man in the Quaternary period, sprung suddenly into
life along with him by some act of miraculous creation, in the teeth of all
the accumulated and irresistible evidence which shows them existing in
the upper Tertiary, and traces their ancestry and lines of progressive de-
velopment through the Miocene into the earliest Eocene period.
Having thus cleared the ground of probabilities, I proceed to state the
positive evidence for discoveries of human remains in Tertiary formations,
premising that it is nearly all the result of the last few years, and is rapidly
accumulating ; and that there is no reason to expect that it will ever be
abundant, as the more nearly we approach to the time and place of man's
origin, the narrower must be the area, and the fewer the stations, at which
we can hope to find his traces, and the greater the effect of denudation in
obliterating those traces.
The first well-authenticated instance is that of St. Prest, near Chartres,
on the Eure, one of the tributaries of the Seine. Here the lowest gravels
of the present river rest on gravels of what Lyell, after personal examina-
tion, considered to be an earlier Pliocene river, and which are charac-
terized by the older forms of elephant and rhinoceros ; the Elephas
Meridionalis, and Rhinoceros Leptorhinus, instead of by the Quaternary
Mammoth and Rhinocerous Tichorinus. In these older gravels have been
found stone implements, and bones of the Elephas Meridionalis with in-
cisions evidently made by a flint knife worked by a human hand. This
was disputed as long as possible, but Quatrefages, a very cautious and
competent authority, states in his latest work, published in 1887, that it
is now established beyond the possibility of doubt. It is contended,
however, by some geologists, that this formation, though always consid-
ered to be Pliocene until human remains were found in it, is in reality a
very low stage of the Quaternary, or a transition bed between it and the
Pliocene. The instance, therefore, cannot be accepted as absolutely con-
clusive for anything more than the existence of man at the earliest com-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 71
mencement of the Quaternary period, though the evidence all points to
the gravels being really Pliocene. The same uncertainty applies to the
celebrated discovery by the Abb£ Bourgeois, of flint knives and scrapers
in the Miocene strata of Thenay, near Blois. When these were first pro-
duced, the opinion of the best authorities was very equally divided as to
their being the work of human hands, but subsequent discoveries have
produced specimens as to which it is impossible to entertain any doubt,
especially the flint knife and two small scrapers figured by M. Quatrefages
at p. 92 of his recent work on Races humaines. They present all the
characteristic features by which human design is inferred in other cases,
viz. : the bulb of percussion and repeated chipping by small blows all in
the same direction, round the edge which was intended for use.
The human origin of these implements has been greatly confirmed by
the discovery that the Mincopics of the Andaman Islands manufacture
whet-stones or scrapers almost identical with those of Thenay, and by the
same process of using fire to split the stones into the requisite size and
shape. These Mincopics are not acquainted with the art of chipping
stone into celts or arrow-heads, but use fragments of large shells, of which
they have a great abundance, or of bone or hard wood, and the scrapers
are employed in bringing these to a sharper point or finer edge. The
main objection, therefore, at first raised to the authenticity of these relics
of Miocene man, that they did not afford conclusive proof of design, may
be considered as removed, and the objectors have to fall back on the as-
sumption, either that the implements were fabricated by some exception-
ally intelligent Dryopithecus, or that the Abb6 Bourgeois may have been
deceived by workmen, and mistaken in supposing that flints, which really
came from overlying Quaternary strata, were found in the Miocene de-
posit. This hardly seems probable in the case of such an experienced
observer, and had it been so, the implements might have been expected
to show the usual Quaternary types of celts, knives, and arrow-heads,
fashioned by percussion, whereas the specimens found all bear a distinct
type, being scrapers and borers of small size, and partly fashioned by fire.
The other supposition is based on no evidence, and contrary to all we
know of the limited intelligence of any anthropoid ape. -If it were true
we might at once say that the missing link had been discovered, as a
Dryopithecus, able to do what the Mincopies are now doing, might well
have been the ancestor of man. On the whole, the evidence for these
Miocene implements seem to be very conclusive, and the objections to
have hardly any other ground than the reluctance to admit the great
antiquity of man, which so long opposed itself to the recognition of the
discoveries of M. Boucher de Perthes.
The same class of objection apply to the palaeolithic hatchets found
by M. Ribiero, in beds of the valley of the Tagus, at Olta, in Portugal,
which have always been considered as being of the upper Miocene. It
is thought possible that they may have fallen at some distant period from
72 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
overlying Quaternary gravels, and become mixed up with the upper bed
of the Miocene. The congress of geologists, therefore, who met at Lis-
bon three years ago, thought it wise to suspend their opinion as to the
Tertiary age of M. Ribiero's implements.
Other discoveries, however, of the same nature, seem to be absolutely
conclusive for man's existence, at least as far back as into the Pliocene
era. An Italian geologist, M. Gapellini, has found in the Pliocene strata
of Monte Aperto, near Sienna, bones of the Balaeonotus, a well-known
species of a sort of Pliocene whale, which are scored by incisions obvi-
ously made by a sharp cutting instrument, such as a flint knife guided
by design, and by a human hand. At first it was contended that these
incisions might have been made by the teeth of fishes, but as specimens
multiplied, and were carefully examined, it became evident that no such
explanation was possible. The cuts are in regular curves, and sometimes
almost semi-circular, such as a sweep of the hand could alone have caused,
and they invariably show a clean cut surface on the outer or convex side,
to which the pressure of a sharp edge was applied, with a rough or
abraded surface on the inner side of the cut Microscopic examination
of the cuts confirms this conclusion, and leaves no doubt that they must
have been made by such an instrument as a flint knife, held obliquely
and pressed against the bone while in a fresh state, with considerable
force, just as a savage would do in hacking the flesh off a stranded whale.
Cuts exactly similar can now be made on fresh bone by such flint knives,
and in no other known or conceivable way. It seems, therefore, more
like obstinate prepossession, than scientific scepticism, to deny the exist-
ence of Tertiary man, if it rested only on this single instance.
As regards the evidence from cut bones it is very conclusive, for ex-
perienced observers, with the aid of the microscope, have no difficulty in
distinguishing between cuts which have been made accidentally or by the
teeth of fishes, and those which can only have been made in fresh bone by
a sharp cutting instrument, such as a flint knife. In fact, the best au-
thorities on the subject, such as M. Mortillet, the Curator of the Museum
at St Germain, M. Hamy, and M. Quatrefages, while admitting the au-
thenticity of the cuts submitted to them in a few cases, have rejected it
in numerous others, as in the well-known instance of the grooves on the
bones of a rhinoceros, which Delaunay had found in a Miocene deposit
at Billy.
The only incisions on bones from very early strata, which these experts
have admitted as undoubtedly made by sharp cutting instruments held by
a human hand, are those above mentioned, viz. : on the Elephas Merid-
ionalis of St. Prest, and the Pliocene Balaeonotus of Monte Aperto ; and
in the humerus of a Halitherium from the Upper Miocene of Pouance"
(Maine et Loire). This shows with what caution and scrupulous good
faith the experts have worked, who bear testimony to facts, which if ad-
mitted, are a conclusive demonstration of the existence of Tertiary man.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 73
But in addition to these instances from cut bones, there are others
equally certain and well-authenticated. In the region of the extinct vol-
canoes of Auvergne, in which the celebrated fossil man of Denise was dis-
covered under a stream of lava, embedded in a volcanic tuff, which how-
ever, was considered to be probably Quaternary, there are older lava
streams overlaying tuffs and gravels, which, from the fossils contained in
them, are undoubtedly Tertiary. From one of these Tertiary gravels at
Puy-Courny, M. Rames, a competent geologist, assisted by MM. Badoche,
Chibret and Grandvaux, obtained at three different points a consider-
able number of flint implements, which, if found in any Quaternary de-
posit, would have been accepted without hesitation as of human origin.
They comprise small and rude specimens of the types found in the lowest
Quaternary gravels, such as celts, knives, and scrapers, and present all
the characters by which artificial are distinguished from natural flints in
those formations, viz: bulbs of percussion, and chippings in a determinate
direction on the sides and points intended for use; while no such chip-
pings appear on other parts of the flint, as must have been the case if they
had been the result of casual blows on natural flints.
M. Quatrefages, by whom the subject is fully discussed, and the ob-
jects figured in his recent work, lays great stress on the fact that while the
beds contain five different sorts of flints, those which present traces of
design are confined exclusively to one description of flint, which is most
easily manufactured, and best adapted for human use. He observes with
much force that a torrent capable of tearing flints from their bed and roll-
ing them on, with collisions violent enough to imitate artificial chipping,
could not have exercised a selection, and confined its operations to one
only, out of five different descriptions of flints. He shows also that the
worked edges exhibit, when closely examined, both intentional chipping
and fine parallel striae, as from repeated use in cutting or scraping, while
nothing of the sort is to be seen on the sides left in the natural state,
though they are often as sharp, or even sharper.
It only remains to add that these specimens were submitted by M.
Rames to two Congresses of French geologists, the first at Blois, when
doubts were expressed in some quarters; the second one, last year, at
Grenoble, when the Congress decided that the existence of Tertiary man
was in this case fully established.
Italy supplies the next instance, and it is a very remarkable one, for
here competent geologists have found, not merely implements or cut bones
showing human design, but man himself, including skeletons of several
individuals. The discovery was made on the flank of the hill of Castel-
nedolo, near Brescia, in a bed which is identified by its fossils as belong-
ing to the Lower Pliocene. The excavations were made with the utmost
care, in undisturbed strata, by M. Ragazzoni, a scientific man of good
reputation, assisted by M. Germani, and the results confirmed by M.
Sergi, a well-known geologist, who visited the spot and inquired minutely
74 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
into all the circumstances. According to their united statement some
human bones were found in this deposit by M. Ragazzoni as far back as
1860. This led to further excavations, made at different times, and with
all the precautions pointed out by experience. The deposit was removed
in successive horizontal layers, and nowhere was the least trace found of
the beds having been mixed or disturbed. At a considerable depth in it,
were found the bones of four individuals, a man, a woman, and two
children, which presented the same appearance of fossilization as the
bones of extinct animals found in the same deposit The female skeleton
was almost entire, and the fragments of the skull were sufficiently perfect
to admit of their being pieced together so as to show almost its whole
form.
This preservation of the entire skeleton might lead to the conjecture
that it had come there as the result of a subsequent burial, but this sup-
position is negatived by the undisturbed nature of the beds, and by the
fact that the other bones were found scattered in the same stratum, at con-
siderable distances from the perfect skeleton. M. Quatrefages sums up
the evidence by saying, " that there exists no serious reason for doubting
the discovery of M. Ragazzoni, and that if made in a Quaternary deposit,
no one would have thought of contesting its accuracy. Nothing, there-
fore, can be opposed to it but theoretical a priori objections, similar to
those which so long repelled the existence of Quaternary man; objections
which have long since been refuted, and shown to be absolutely incon-
sistent with a multitude of established facts."
If we accept this conclusion this remarkable consequence follows:
that man, so far back as the Early Pliocene period, was perfectly human,
for the skull and bones present no marked peculiarity, or approximation
to an animal type. The skull is of fair capacity, and very much what
might be expected of a female of the Canstadt race. But if this be so, it
necessarily puts back the origin of the human species to a vastly more re-
mote antiquity, which can hardly be less than that of the Early or Mid-
dle Miocene, in which the remains of the great anthropoid Dryopithecus
have been found.
A skull very similar to the above has also been found in Italy, in a
lacustrine deposit at Olmo, near Arezzo, on the flank of the Apennines;
but although it was found at a depth of nearly fifty feet from the surface,
and some feet lower than a layer of clay containing a tooth of the
Elephas Meridionalis, a species which in Northern Europe scarcely sur-
vived the Pliocene period, the whole formation is considered, from other
remains found in it, as probably belonging to an early Quaternary age,
and therefore not affording satisfactory evidence of Tertiary man. It can
only be quoted as affording some corroboration of the discoveries of
Capellini and Ragazzoni, by showing that man has existed in Italy for
an immense period, and is found in deposits between which and the
Pliocene there is no abrupt line of demarcation.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 75
This completes the evidence from the Old World. Turning to the
New World, we find, both in North and South America, numerous proofs
of the existence of man from a very remote antiquity, but there is some
difficulty in arriving at definite conclusions as to their Tertiary date, from
the fact that the succession of geological periods does not exactly corres-
pond on the two sides of the Atlantic. America has been said to be, in
some respects, a whole period behind Europe and Asia in this succession.
Thus the mastodon, which in the Old World is a characteristic Miocene
and Pliocene species, and did not survive into the Quarternary, is found
in America in the latest drifts, and even in peat masses associated with
neolithic flint arrows, and not impossibly [survived into the Historical
period. The bear family, on the other hand, which is so conspicuous in
the old formations of Europe, is not found in America until the Quaternary.
The extinct fauna also of South America is, like the present, that of a dis-
tinct zoological province from either North America or Europe, so that
we cannot assume that the Zenglodon and other huge ancestral types of
armadillos and ant-eaters, were necessarily of an age corresponding to our
Tertiary.
With this reservation I proceed to state some of the leading instances
which have been referred to by American geologists as establishing the
existence of Tertiary man on that continent
The most important case is that of the skulls and stone implements
which have been found in the auriferous gravels of California, the evidence
for which, and for other ancient remains in North America, has been
very carefully summed up by the distinguished naturalist, Mr. Alfred
Wallace, in an article in the Nineteenth Century of November, 1887.
These gravels are the result of an enormous denudation of the Sierra Ne-
vada, which has filled up all the great valleys on its Pacific slope with
thick deposits of debris, forming in some cases detached hills, and even
mountains, of considerable height. While this was going on, there were
repeated volcanic eruptions in the higher range, giving rise to beds of
lava, tuff, and ashes, which are frequently interstratified with the gravels;
and finally, the close of the volcanic period was marked by a great flow
of basaltic lava, which spread in a nearly level capping over the whole
surface of the country. This, and the subjacent beds of gravel and tuffs,
has since been cut down by the action of the present rivers, to a depth of
sometimes 1 500 or of 2000 feet, leaving a series of isolated, tabular hills com-
posed, on the upper part, of a horizontal layer of basalt, varying from 50
to 200 feet in thickness, and in the lower part, of 800 to 1 500 feet of gravels,
lava-beds, and tuffs. Thus what was once a single lava stream, or suc-
cession of lava streams, is now a series of detached hills, the tops of which
form parts of one gently inclined plane, sloping from the mountains to-
wards the plains, and now, in some cases, 1000 feet or more above the
adjacent valleys.
The present rivers have in some places cut down the lavas and gravels
j6 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
to the beds of ancient rivers, which flowed in different courses from the
existing ones, and it is in the beds of these ancient rivers that the princi-
pal accumulations of gold are found. Hence an enormous amount of
the oldest gravels has been excavated in working for gold, and in some of
these workings human remains have been found, associated with animal
remains, which are all of extinct species, entirely distinct from those that
now inhabit any part of the North American continent Some of the
genera, such as Hipparion, Auchenia, and Elotherium, would, if found
elsewhere, undoubtedly be taken to denote a Pliocene, if not a Miocene
formation. The vegetable remains also indicate a totally different flora
from that now prevailing in California, and which Professors Lesqueraux
and Whitney — the latter the geologist of the State, and well-known from
his Report on the Auriferous Gravels of the Sierra Nevada — consider to be
of Pliocene age, with some affinities to Miocene. Numerous stone im-
plements have been found associated with this extinct fauna and flora in
nine different countries, and human bones in five widely-separated locali-
ties. The two most remarkable instances of the latter are —
1. The Tuolumne skull. A fragment brought up from a shaft in Table
Mountain, at a depth of 180 feet below the surface, beneath a bed of
three feet of consolidated volcanic tuff, with fossil leaves and branches,
over which is a deposit of 70 feet of clay and gravel.
2. The Calaveras skull. This was found in 1866, under four beds of
lava, and in the fourth bed of gravel from the surface, embedded in a
rounded mass of earthy and stony matter containing bones. The ce-
mented gravel was removed with great difficulty, and disclosed a human
skull, nearly entire, with several bones of the human foot and other parts
wedged into the cavity of the skull, the whole being in a fossilized con-
dition, like that of the animal bones in similar formations. Human
bones have been found in two other instances — one by an educated ob-
server, under a bed eight feet thick of lava; and more recently a discov-
ery has been announced of rude stone implements in Tertiary gravels of
Stone Creek, Colorada, associated with shells which are considered by
conchologists to be no later than of the older Pliocene.
The Calaveras case is, however, the typical one, owing to its having
been extracted from the matrix by Professor Wyman, and all the circum-
stances of the find thoroughly investigated by Professor Whitney. When
the discovery was first announced, it was objected that the skull was pos-
sibly taken by the miners from some Indian grave. But this objection
disappears before the fact that it was fossilized, and embedded in a ma-
trix which no forger could have counterfeited, and even more conclusively
from the great number of instances in which human bones and imple-
ments have been discovered at different localities in similar formations,
Even the polemical imagination of the Duke of Argyll could hardly in-
vent a conspiracy of so many groups of Californian miners, at different
times, and in different localities, to hoax scientists, or to supply proofs
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 77
for or against the Darwinian theory of the Descent of Man. Nor would
men intent on such a fraud have buried fragments instead of whole skulls,
and stone implements of a type different from that which, if they had
known enough on these subjects to conceive the fraud, they must have
been aware would have been expected. For the nature of these imple-
ments is an exception to the general rule, that the oldest type found
throughout the world, from South Africa to China, is everywhere the
same, consisting of rudely-chipped celts, knives, and scrapers, the Cali-
fornian implements consisting of stone plates or mortars, and pestles or
pounding stones, very like those used by some living tribes of Indians
for crushing acorns.
Quatrefages, assuming that these implements were used for pounding
corn, justly considers it highly improbable that agriculture could have
been known at such an early period, and that Pliocene man in Califorina
couid have been so far in advance of his Quaternary brother on the At-
lantic side of the continent, as shown by the rude celts, and knives of the
Trenton gravels. But if they were used for crushing acorns, the argu-
ment is not so clear, for a tribe of primitive savages, living among oak
forests, might use flat stones and pounders for the purpose, while hunt-
ing tribes might use rude celts, as the bushmen do at the present day.
Either form seems equally within the range of the early dawn of human
intelligence, and not much in advance of that of the gorilla or chimpanzee.
Equally futile is Sir J. Dawson's surmise that the skull may have been
dropped into some old mining shaft. There is no evidence for any pre-
historic mining for gold in California, such as is found in the copper re-
gion of Lake Superior, and it is certain that, if any such had existed, it
must have been confined to the superficial deposits. Nothing but an in-
trepid determination to ignore facts could have led to such a supposition.
The Calaveras skull is not a solitary instance, but one of several human
bones, and hundreds of human implements, which have been found, at
wide distances apart, in these auriferous gravels, and often underneath
beds of dense basalt, which could by no possibility have been pierced
without the aid of metal tools and blasting powder. Objections like these
prove nothing except that the objector is in the theologico-scientific frame
of mind, which sees everything relating to the origin of man through the
medium of the first chapter of Genesis.
The only serious objection to assuming these Californian discoveries
to be a conclusive proof of the existence of Tertiary man, arises from the
fact that several good American geologists dispute Professor Whitney's
conclusion that these auriferous gravels are of Tertiary origin. They
consider that such an enormous accumulation could only have been
formed during a Glacial period, when frost and ice were grinding down
the mountains, and swollen rivers, from melting snow and glaciers, sweep-
ing the debris down the valleys into the plains. This leaves doubt as to
their origin in the comparatively mild and equable climate of the Pliocene
78 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
period, but as regards the question of the great antiquity of man, it does
not much signify to which period we assign them. Any time subtracted
from the Pliocene has to be added to the Quaternary, for the fact remains
unquestioned that, since man existed in California, valleys have been
filled up by drifts from the waste of mountains to a depth in some cases
of 1500 feet; these covered by a succession of tuffs, ashes, and lava
streams, from volcanoes long since extinct, and finally cut down by the
present rivers through beds of solid basalt, and through this accumula-
tion of lavas and gravels. Such an operation corresponds in time with
that by which the great river systems of the Old World were sculptured
out from a table-land, standing, in some cases many hundred feet higher
than at present, as shown by the deposit of the loess, which is universally
recognized to be an accumulation of fine glacial mud.
The latest contribution towards the antiquity of human remains in
California is contained in a paper read to the Anthropological Society by
Mr. Skertchley, the well-known geologist, to whom we are indebted for
the discovery of palaeolithic implements beneath the chalky boulder-clay
at Thetford, in Norfolk.
During a visit to the Spring Valley gold-mine, in one of the tributary
valleys of the Sacramento River, he ascertained the following facts: This
mine is worked by hydraulic jets 'directed on the sands and gravels of an
old river which once flowed in an impetuous course down a steep gradient
from the Sierra Nevada. It has long since ceased to flow, and the bed of
the old river is now buried under 500 feet of its own deposits, capped in
places by i oo feet of basalt, which has flowed in wide sheets from long-
since extinct volcanoes. The section given by Mr. Skertchley is —
1. Basalt cap 25 to 100 feet.
2. White sands and gravels ... 450 •*
3. Blue gravel, with boulders . . . 2 to 15 •*
4. Blue gravel, with large boulders . 50 •'
5. Bed rock — metamorphoid cretaceous slates.
Stone mortars, rudely chipped, occur abundantly in the white sand
(No. 2), about 300 having been found, and one is said to have occurred
in No. 3. There can be no question of their occurring in situ, as they are
washed out of the gravel by powerful hydraulic jets, from the working
face of the mine, which forms an artificial cliff of 400 to 600 feet in
height
Nor can there be any doubt as to their human origin, for the specimen
produced by Mr. Skertchley to the Anthropological Society was uni-
versally admitted to have been artificially wrought. Their use was
probably for pounding acorns, which then afforded a great part of the
food of the savages who inhabited the district, as they did recently of the
Digger Indians.
The question, therefore, is entirely one of the age of the gravels, as to
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 79
which American ""geologists differ, some assigning the upper, or white
gravels, to the Pliocene, others to the early Quaternary period. As Mr.
Skertchley says, "If the human remains had not been found in them,
geologists would never have doubted their Tertiary age. At any rate they
must be of immense antiquity. Since they were deposited, the present
river system of the Sacramento, Joaquim, and other large rivers has been
established; canons 2000 feet deep have been excavated by these later
rivers through lava, gravels, and into the bed rock; and the gravels, once
the bed of a large river, now cap hills 6000 feet high."
The definite information, conveyed by an experienced geologist like
Mr, Skertchley, gives confirmation and precision to what has been stated
from a variety of other sources, as to the frequent discovery of human im-
plements, and even, in a few instances, of human skulls, from similar
auriferous gravels over a wide range of country in California. Whether
Tertiary or not, it is evident that they must carry back the date of man's
existence, in the north-west of America, to a period vastly older than that
of 25,000 or 30,000 years assigned to him by the latest guess of Professor
Prestwich.
The other instances from America are open to the same doubt as to
their geological age. The cavern of Semidouro, in the plateau of Lagoa-
Santo, in Brazil, has yielded sixteen human skulls, associated with bones
of extinct species, such as Glyptodon, Machaerodus, Hydrochaerus,
Scalidotherium, and others, which, if found in Europe, would undoubtedly
be taken to imply a Tertiary fauna. But there remains the doubt as to
the real succession of geological periods in America, and if the Mastodon
lived on there until recent times, for which there is a good deal of evidence,
there is no conclusive reason why the Machasrodus and other Tertiary
forms might not have survived from the Pliocene or Miocene into the
Quaternary. The human implements also found in these Brazilian caves
seem, in many cases, of too advanced a type to be readily accepted as of
such extreme antiquity.
The same doubt also applies to the numerous human remains found by
two competent observers, M. Ameghino and M. Burmeister, at different
points in the pampas of Buenos Ayres. They both recognize two distinct
beds in this pampean formation — an upper one, in which these remains
have been found, and a lower one, in which nothing of human origin has
yet been discovered. Ameghino, relying on the fossil remains of distinct
animals, considers the upper bed to be Tertiary ; while Burmeister con-
siders the lower one only to be Pre-Glacial, and the upper one to be Qua-
ternary. While these doubts continue, we must hold our judgment in
suspense as to the evidence from America, though undoubtedly it tends
as far as it goes to confirm the rapidly accumulating evidence from the
Old World of the existence of Tertiary man ; and the discovery of its
traces at so many widely-separated places, at such a remote antiquity,
adds to the irresistible force of the conclu§ion that his first origin, and
80 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
subsequent diffusion by migration, must be sought in one of the geologi-
cal formations preceding the Quaternary.
To sum up the evidence, there are at least ten instances of the alleged
discovery of human remains in Tertiary strata, of each of which it may be
safely said that if the remains had been those of any other Mammalian spe-
cies, no doubt would have been entertained of their Tertiary origin by any
geologist. Four of these are in France, those of St. Prest and of Puy-
Courny in the Pliocene, and of Thenay and Pouance* in the Miocene;
three in Italy, in the Pliocene of Monte Aperto, St. Olmo, and Castelne-
dolo ; one in Portugal, in the Miocene of the Tagus ; in North America,
the skull of Calaveras and other numerous human remains in the presum-
ably Pliocene auriferous gravels of California ; and in South America, in
the pampean remains of Buenos Ayres. Of these, the discoveries at Puy-
Courny, Monte Aperto, St. Olmo, and Castelnedolo seem to be un-
doubted, both as regards the human nature of the remains, and the Terti-
ary character of the deposits. Those of St. Prest and of the Californian
gravels are doubtful only as regards the question whether the deposits
may not be of the earliest Glacial or Quaternary period, rather than Ter-
tiary, the evidence from the associated fossil remains being strongly in
favor of their Tertiary origin. There remain three cases of alleged discov-
eries in the Miocene, viz. : at Thenay, Pouance", and in Portugal, the evi-
dence for which, especially for the two former, is extremely strong and
almost conclusive, while the objections to them are obviously based on a
reluctance to admit such an extension of human origins, rather than on
scientific evidence.
In none of these cases, as further evidence has accumulated, has it
tended to shake the conclusions of the first discoverers as to the human
character of the implements and the Miocene age of the formations. On
the contrary, the most cautious authorities, such as M. Quatrefages, who
held their judgment in suspense when the first implements were produced,
have been converted by subsequent discoveries, and expressed their con-
viction that doubt is no longer possible. And the latest Congress of
French geologists has expressed the decided opinion that the existence of
Tertiary man is fully proved.
On the whole, we may say with confidence of the problem of Tertiary
man that, if not completely solved, it is very near solution, and that
there is little doubt what the solution will be.
The next generation will probably accept it as an obvious fact, and
wonder at the doubts now entertained, very much as we wonder at the
incredulity with which the discovery of palaeolithic implements in the
Quaternary gravels of the Somme by M. Boucher de Perthes was received
by the scientific world, when it was first announced.
CHAPTER VI.
THE MISSING LINK.
OF all the problems which have been raised, but not solved, the most
important is that of the origin of man. It is important, not only as
a question of the highest scientific interest, but from its bearings on the
deepest mysteries of philosophy and religion. Is man, like the rest of the
animal creation, a product of evolution acting by natural laws, or is he an
exception to the general rule, and the product of some act of secondary
supernatural interference ? Or to put it in theological language, is man a
consequence of that "original impress," which Bishop Temple pro-
nounces to be more in accordance with the idea of an omniscient and
omnipotent Creator; to whom "a day is as a thousand years, and a
thousand years as a day," than the traditional theory of a Creator con-
stantly interposing to supplement and amend His original creation by
miracles ? Or is he an exceptional supplement and amendment to such
original creation, miraculously introduced at one of its later stages ? It
is a question which has to be solved by facts, and not by theories or pre-
possessions.
As regards the physical universe, and the whole of the world of life,
with the possible exception of man, it may be taken as already solved in
the sense of evolution and original impress. But in the case of man, the
question is still sttb judice ; the missing links have not yet been discovered
which connect him with primitive forms, and scientific authorities are not
yet agreed whether the time which has elapsed since his first appearance
on earth is sufficient to afford a possibility of his being a creature of evo-
lution. The problem is of such importance that it may be well to state
its conditions in some detail.
When I say that evolution has become the accepted law of the whole
animate and inanimate universe, with the possible exception of man, why
do I say this ? The old theory of special miraculous interpositions to
account for all unexplained phenomena was the most natural and the
most obvious. It was, in fact, the inevitable result of the first attempts
of the human mind to connect effects with causes, or, in other words, to
reason. Take the case of thunder. What could the first savage who
reasoned on the subject infer except that, the noise being like the roar of
an angry wild beast or enemy, and the flash like that of the darting of an
arrow or javelin, there was probably a sort of magnified man like himself
tn the clouds, full of wrath and very capable of doing him an injury ?
81
82 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
The savage who reasoned thus, and the early priests and astronomers
who, whenever they saw motion in the sun and planets, inferred life, were
natural philosophers, who reasoned correctly from their premises, only
their premises were wrong. In course of time, it came to be demonstrated
that phenomena formerly supposed to be isolated miraculous acts of an
Anthropomorphic power, were linked together by that invariable sequence
which we call law, and that their real first cause or origin must be pushed
vastly further back in space and time, and relegated more and more from
the known to the unknown.
The establishment of Newton's law of gravity as the pervading princi-
ple of all celestial movements, gave the first great blow to the old mirac-
ulous theory, and introduced the conception of Natural Law. Geology
did for time what astronomy had done for space, and since the publica-
tion of Ly ell's principles no serious thinker has doubted that the successive
stages by which the earth was brought to its present state were due to
evolution, acting by natural laws over immense periods of time. The
discoveries of modern chemistry have confirmed the impression of the uni-
formity and invariability of Law, by showing it extending from the infi-
nitely great to the infinitely small, from stars to atoms; while the spectro-
scope shows the identity of matter and energy throughout this extreme
range. Above all, the establishment of the laws of the indestructibility
of matter and energy, and their mutual transformation into new forms
and new modes of action, have placed special causes altogether out of
court, and reduced all the phenomena of the inorganic universe to one
law of universal simplicity and generality. Instead of speculating with
ancient sages who may be the God who flashes lightnings from the skies,
or drives the chariot of the sun ; or even as late as Kepler, assigning a
spirit to each planet to direct its harmonious movement, the question for
modern science is reduced to the ultimate stage of — What mean these
atoms and energies into which everything can be resolved? Whence
came they, and how did they become endowed with those laws which
have enabled them to build up the universe by an irresistible evolution ?
But the miraculous theory died hard. Based as it was on popular
apprehension and on theological prepossession, when driven from the
outwork of the inorganic universe, it held out stoutly in the inner citadel
of life. Were not species distinct, and if so how could they have come
into existence unless by a series of special acts of miraculous creation ?
Above all, was not man a miracle, with his high faculties, " only a little
lower than the angels ; " and did not all records and traditions describe
him as a recent creation, who had fallen from a high state of perfection
by an act of original sin ? Nay more, did not science itself confirm this
view, and had not Cwier laid down the axiom that no human remains
had been found in connection with any extinct animals, or in any but the
most superficial deposits ? The discovery of innumerable human imple-
ments and remains in all quarters of the globe, in caves and river drifts
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 83
of immense antiquity, and associated with extinct animals, has shattered
this theory into fragments, and it is now as impossible to believe in man's
recent origin and fall, as it is in the sun's daily journey round the earth,
or the notion that it might be as big as the Peloponnesus.
Still, the difficulty as to the creation of distinct species remained, and
until the publication of Darwin's celebrated work on the Origin of Species,
the miraculous theory, though driven back, could hardly be said to be
routed. But evolution was in the air and Darwin's book produced the
effect of a fragment of crystal dropped into a saturated solution. In an
incredibly short time, all the floating elements crystallized about it, and
the speculations of science took a definite form, the evidence for which
has gone on strengthening and increasing from that day to this, until, as
I have said, with the solitary exception of human origins, evolution or
original impress has become the axiom of science, and is admitted by
every one who has the slightest pretensions to be considered a competent
authority.
This predisposition to accept Darwin's views arose from various causes.
The establishment of evolution as a fact in the material universe had
familiarized men's minds with the idea of Natural Law, and the discov-
eries of astronomy and geology had proved to demonstration that the
accounts of creation, formerly taken to be inspired truths which it was
impious to question, could only be considered as vague poetical versions
of the ideas which were current among Eastern nations in the infancy of
science. The last remnant of respect for these narratives as literal records
of actual events vanished when the discoveries of M. Boucher de Perthes
were confirmed, and it became apparent that man was not a recent cre-
ation who had fallen from a high estate, but the descendant of palaeolithic
savages, who had struggled slowly up to civilization through immense
periods of time. As a knowledge of natural history increased, it became
apparent that the earth had not been peopled recently from a single
centre, but that it was divided into numerous vegetable and zoological
provinces, each with its own separate flora and fauna ; and a better ac-
quaintance with the zoological record showed that this had been the case
for millions of years, and through the vast succession of strata of which
the earth's crust is composed. Finally,. the multiplication of species, both
now existing and in past geological ages, reached a point which, on
any theory of separate supernatural creations, required an amount of mir-
acle which was plainly absurd and impossible. When it came to this,
that 1 60 separate miracles were required to account for the 160 species
of land shells found to exist in the one small island of Maderia, and that
1400 distinct species of a single shell, the Cerithium, had been described
by conchologists, the miraculous theory had evidently broken down under
its own weight and ceased to be credible.
In this state of things, Darwin not only supplied a vast number of in-
stances, drawn from his own observation, of graduation of species into
84 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
one another, and the wide range of varieties produced and rendered per-
manent by artificial selections, but what was more important, he showed
the existence of a vera causa operating in nature, which could not fail to
produce similar effects. If a pigeon-fancier could, by pairing birds
which showed a tendency to variation in a particular direction, produce
in a few generations races as distinct from the original blue-rock as the fan-
tail or the pouter, it is evident that nature could do the same in a longer
period. Nay, not only that nature could, but that nature must, do this,
for in the struggle for existence, variations, however slight, which gave an
advantage to individuals, must tend to survive, and become extended and
fixed by the operation of heredity. This was the famous theory of
"Natural Selection " and "Survival of the Fittest," which at once con-
verted the chaos of life into a cosmos, and extended the domain of har-
monious law to the organic as well as the inorganic universe. Attract-
ive, however, as the theory was from the first to thinking men, its uni-
versal acceptance at the present day is due mainly to the immense
amount of confirmation which it has since received. This confirmation has
come from two independent sources — the discovery of Missing Links and
Embryology.
When Darwin's theory was first propounded, the objection was raised
that if species were not created distinct, but gradually evolved from one
another by slight variations, geology ought to show us the intermediate
forms which must have existed before the permanent types were established.
The objection was reasonable, and Darwin was the first to admit it, but he
pleaded the imperfection of the geological record, and predicted that with
fuller knowledge of it, the gaps would be filled up and the missing links
discovered. The truth or falsehood of his theory was thus staked on the
discovery of missing links. The case was almost similar to that of the
truth of Halley's calculations as to the orbit of his comet, being staked on
its return at the predicted period. The comet did return, and the missing
links have been discovered, or so many of them that no doubt remains in
the minds of scientific men that evolution has been the real law of the
animal and vegetable kingdoms.
In fact, the discovery of missing links has gone so far, that Professor
Cope, one of the latest and highest authorities on the subject, and who
has done so much for it by his discoveries of the wonderfully rich fossil
fauna of the Tertiary formations of the Rocky Mountains and California,
says — " We have attained the long-since extinct ancestor of the lowest
vertebrates. We have the ancestor of all the reptiles, of the birds, and
of the mammals. If we consider the mammals separately, we have traced
up a great many lines to their points of departure from very primitive
types. Thus we have obtained the genealogical-trees of the deer, the
camel, the musk, the horse, tapir, and the rhinoceros; of the cats and
dogs, of the lemurs and monkeys, and have important evidence as to the
origin of man."
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 85
M. Gaudry, the celebrated discoverer of the fossil treasures of the
Upper Miocene of Pikermi, repeats the same thing. He says — "If we
take a skeleton of a fossil mammalian species, and compare it with one
of an analogous living species" — as for instance a Mammoth or Mastodon
with a modern elephant — " placing the heads, vertebrae, humerus, radius,
femurs, feet, &c. , of the one, side by side with those of the other, the sum
of the likenesses will appear so much greater than that of the differences,
that the idea of family relationship will impose itself on the mind. In
vain would sceptics try to throw doubts on this relationship by pointing
out some slight shades of difference. We see too many points of re-
semblance to admit that they can be all fallacious. " And again he says,
" Where our predecessors saw ten or one hundred distinct beings, we see
only one ; and instead of creations thrown, as it were, into the world at
haphazard, without law and without connection, we follow the trace of a
few types whose essential characters are so similar as to enable us to com-
prehend them in still simpler types, and thus hope to arrive some day at
understanding the plan which God has followed in producing and devel-
oping life in the world."
This is almost identical with Bishop Temple's profession of faith ' ' that
it seems something more majestic, more befitting of Him to whom a
thousand years are as one day, thus to impress His will once for all on
His creation, and provide for all its countless varieties by this one origi-
nal impress, than by special acts of creation to be perpetually modifying
what He had previously made."
A clear popular conception of this question of "missing links" is so
important for all who desire to understand the latest conclusions of mod-
ern science, that it may be well to illustrate it by a homely example.
Fifty years ago, the popular belief respecting the animal creation was
summed up in the simple words of Dr. Watts' hymn:
" Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
For 'tis their nature to;
And bears and lions growl and fight,
For God has made them so."
Science could only shrug its shoulders and say, " So it seems ; I have no
better explanation to give."
How different are the terms in which science would now reply.
' ' Made, if you like, but how made ? As individuals, each from a cell not
distinguishable from any other microscopic cell of the lowest animal and
vegetable organisms, but endowed with such an impress of evolution that
it develops through the stages of fish, reptile, and mammal, into the
special mammalian form of its parents. As species, traceable through a
similar progression backwards from the living form, through intermediate
ancestral forms graduating by slight distinctions into one another, up to
the generalized Eocene type of the Placental mammal, and thence back-
86 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
wards by less definite but still traceable variations, to the types of the
marsupial, the reptilian, the fish, the vertebrate, and so up to the primi-
tive cell in which the individual living animal originated."
Thus the dog and bear, now so distinct, can be traced up to Amphi-
cyon and Hysenarctus, which combined the qualities of both ; the former
being rather more dog than bear, the latter rather more bear than dog ;
and these again, either through the Creodonta to the Bunodonta of the
early Eocene, or through the Ictitherium to the Cynodictis, or weasel-like
dog of the same formation, which is clearly a descendant of the insectivo-
rous Marsupials of the Secondary age.
The horse affords the best example of this progressive evolution, the
specialization from the generalized Eocene type of a five-toed and tuber-
cular toothed mammal being clearly traced, step by step, down to the
present one-toed horse. The evolution took the course of adapting the
original form to the requirements of an animal which had to live on wide
prairies or desert plains, where a bulky body had to be transported at
high speed, by leaps and bounds, over great distances, both to find food
and to escape from enemies by flight For this purpose, evidently, one
solid toe, protected by a single enlarged nail or hoof, was preferable to
five or three weak toes terminating each in a separate nail or claw; and in
like manner, teeth adapted for cutting and masticating grass were better
than the more millstone-like tubercular teeth adapted for grinding down
shrubs and branches of trees. Accordingly, we find the evolution of the
horse constantly following this line. In Europe, the Hipparion, who is
the immediate ancestor of the horse whom it closely resembles, has al-
ready the two lateral toes so rudimental as to have become wholly useless;
in the Anchitherium the tips of the outer toes just touch the ground,
while the Palaeotherium is a distinctly three-toed animal, though the mid-
dle toe is larger than the two side toes. We have thus a complete pro-
gression from a slow, heavy animal, adapted for living on marshy ground,
like the tapir, to the courser of the plains, whose latest development,
under artificial selection, is seen in an Ormonde or a Donovan.
In America the links in the pedigree of the fossil horse are still more
numerous, and the transitions closer. The line begins in the Early Eo-
cene with the Eohippus, an animal of the size of a fox, which in addition
to four well-developed toes of the forefoot, had the remnants of the hoofed
fifth toe. In the Upper Eocene, the Eohippus was replaced by the
Orohippus, in which the rudimentary first digit had disappeared, and
the fifth was reduced to a splint. In the Lower Miocene the Mesohippus,
which was about as large as a sheep, had only three toes with a rudi-
mentary splint on the foreleg, and in its teeth and other particulars ap-
proached more closely to the horse. In the Upper Miocene, Mesohippus
is replaced by Miohippus, which approaches closely to the Anchitherium
of Europe ; while in the Lower Pliocene this gives way to the Protohip-
pus, which approached the horse very closely, and was about the size of
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 87
an ass. Like the Hipparion of Europe, which in many respects ix re-
sembles, it had three toes, of which only the middle one reached the
ground. In the Middle Pliocene we have the Pliohippus, which has lost
the small hooflets on the rudimentary toes, and is in all respects very like
a horse ; and finally in the Upper Pliocene we have the true horse.
This progression gives rise to two important remarks. First, that size
cannot be accepted as of much importance in tracing lines of descent, as
might indeed have been anticipated from the wide variations in the size
of dogs and other domestic animals introduced by artificial selection.
Secondly, that the extinction of wide-spread and apparently unexhausted
races of animals is a fact which has to be reckoned with. The total dis-
appearance of the horse in America, where it and its ancestors had ex-
isted in such numbers from the Early Eocene down to quite recent times,
is a most perplexing problem. There is no appearance of any great
change of environment since the horse roamed in countless numbers over
the continent of America, and we know from the experience of Europe
that it was a hardy animal, capable of resisting both the torrid heat of
Arabia, and the intense cold of the Glacial period. And so many other
species survived in America, from the Pliocene to the Quaternary and
recent periods, as to show that the extinction of the horse was an isolated
phenomenon. And as of extinction, so of creation. We do not fully
understand the exact process by which types and species have either
appeared or disappeared, and this affords the only ground left to those
who, from theological or other prepossessions, are hostile to Darwinism.
They say his theory of natural selection from spontaneous variations does
not account for everything, and does not explain fully all the laws of
these variations. This may be partly true, but it in no way affects the
truth of evolution, which is a fact and not a theory, and is quite inde-
pendent of the subsidiary question, whether natural selection can account
for all, or only for a principal part of the facts which, in some way or
other, have to be accounted for. Thus, whether the long neck of the
giraffe was developed by natural selection taking advantage of accidental
variations in this direction, or partly by this and partly by heredity fixing
variations induced by use and disuse of organs in stretching to reach the
branches of palms, in no way affects the question whether the animal is a
product of evolution or a miraculous creation.
To return to the pedigree of the horse, which may be taken as the
typical instance of descent traced by progressive specialization. What is
a horse ? It is essentially an animal specialized for a particular object,
that of the rapid progression of a bulky body over open plains or deserts.
When mammalian life first appears abundantly in the lower Tertiaries, it
is in the primitive generalized type, in which nature seems always to make
its first essays, as if it were trying its 'prentice hand on a simple sketch,
to be gradually developed into a series of finished pictures. The primitive
sketch in this instance took the form of what Professor Cope calls a
88 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
" pentadactyle, plantigrade, bunodont," by which formidable collocation
of words we are to understand an animal which had five toes at the ex-
tremities of each of its limbs ; which walked on the flat of its feet, and
whose molar teeth presented a flat surface, with four, or in the very earli-
est form, three little cones or tubercles, to assist in grinding its food. It
may give some idea of the precision and certainty to which such re-
searches have attained, to say that this primitive form was predicted by
Professor Cope in 1874, from the progress towards it traced in following
backwards various lines of later descent; and that seven years later, in
1 88 1, the prophecy was fulfilled by the discovery that such a type of mam-
mals, now known as the Condylarthra, actually existed in large numbers in
North America, in the early Eocene period.
Consider now what the specialization from this original type to the
horse implied. The first step was to walking on the toes instead of on
the flat of the foot, a change which, whether owing or not to the lady
Condylartha having adopted the modern fashion of wearing high-heeled
boots, became general in most lines of their descendants. For galloping
on hard ground it is evident that one strong and long toe, protected by a
solid hoof, was more serviceable than four short and weak toes, protected
by separate nails. Accordingly, coalescence of the toes is the funda-
mental fact in the progress of structural changes through successive
species, by which the primitive Bunodont was converted into the modern
horse. Corresponding with this are other progressive changes in the
articulation of the joints, especially those of the bones corresponding to
the ankle and wrist joints, which are modified from a contact of plane
surfaces into a system of tongues and grooves, which give freedom of
action in direct progression, but secure them against the dislocations from
shocks and strains, to which they would be exposed in galloping or
jumping. So in other types the specialization takes different forms, but
always towards the sharper distinction of species formerly more united and
generalized. Thus the half-bear, half-dog, and half-cat original type of
the Eocene, becomes differentiated into the three distinct types of the
wholly bear, dog, and cat of later formations.
Nor is this tracing back of existing mammalian species to ancestral
forms in the Early Tertiary all that recent science has accomplished. The
course of geological discovery for the last twenty, and specially for the
last ten years, may almost be summed up as that of the discovery of
' ' missing links, " until gap after gap, which seemed to separate not only
species, but genera and orders, by insurmountable barriers, has been
bridged over by intermediate forms. Thus to take one of the most strik-
ing instances — What can, at first sight, appear more unlike than reptile
and bird, and who would have ventured to predict that any relationship
could be traced between a tortoise and a swallow ? And yet nothing is
more certain than that the Reptilia pass over into the Aves, by successive
gradations, which make it difficult to pronounce where one ends and the
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 89
other begins. The pterodactyle, or flying dragon of the lias, approaches
in structure and habits towards the bird type; the ostrich retains some re-
semblance to the pterodactyle, but the complete transitional type, or " miss-
ing link," has been found in those feathered reptiles, or birds with reptilian
heads and teeth, whose remains have fortunately been preserved in a fossil
state. The Archaeopteryx, from the CEningen slate of the Upper Oolite,
in the museum of South Kensington, is a beautiful specimen of such a
missing link, and would certainly be taken for a bird by any casual ob-
server, though comparative anatomists find many of its essential features
to be reptilian.
The Archaeopteryx and other transitional types which have been dis-
covered in Europe and America between birds and reptiles, afford perhaps
the most obvious and universally intelligible instances of what recent
geology has done in the way of the discovery of " missing links," between
genera and orders now widely separated; but similar discoveries have gone
a long way towards establishing the continuity of life from the earliest
periods in which it appears, down to the present day, and showing the
kind and progress of the changes in structure, which, in the course of
evolution, have linked the various orders and species of living forms
together. Thus the higher form of Placental mammals which became
predominant in the Early Tertiary, differs from the Marsupials, which
extend into the trias of the Secondary period, by the greater extension of
the allantoid or membrane which surrounds the foetus. In the Placentals
this completely surrounds it, so that the foetus remains part of the mother
until birth; while in the Marsupial the young are born incomplete, and
take refuge for a time in a pouch which is attached to the mother's
stomach. But there are fossil animals in the Eocene which combine the
two characters, showing a Marsupial brain and dentition, with a Placental
development. They are, in effect, Marsupials in which the allantoid,
instead of being arrested at an early stage, has continued to grow.
Again, the Marsupials are linked on to still lower forms of animal life
through the Monotremata, of which a few specimens survive in Australia,
typified by the Ornithorynchus, or water-mole, which has the bill of a
duck, and lays eggs. This order has only one opening, called the cloaca,
for the purposes which, in higher orders, are performed by separate or-
gans, and it is remarkable that this stage is passed through by man and
the higher mammals in the course of their embryonic development
Going still further back, the lines of demarcation between orders are,
as in the case of birds and reptiles, more and more broken down every
day by the discovery of intermediate forms, and we can almost trace the
evolution from the Ascidian or lowest vertebrate type into the fish, the
amphibia, the reptile, and so upwards. And it is remarkable that this
course of evolution invariably corresponds with the general progressive
evolution of types through geological ages, and with the embryonic evo-
lution of individual life from the primitive cell. It is not too much,
90 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
therefore, to assume evolution to be the demonstrated law of the world of
life as well as of that of matter, and to confine ourselves to the question
whether man is or is not a solitary exception to this law.
We are now in a position to examine more closely the bearings of this
question of missing "links" on that of human origins. Geologically
speaking, man is one of the order of Primates, which includes also the
catarrhine apes and monkeys of the Old World, the platyrhine apes and
monkeys of America, and the lemurs or half-monkeys which are found
principally in Madagascar and a few districts of continental and insular
Asia and Africa. Of these, the anthropoid apes — the chimpanzee, gorilla,
and orang approach most closely to man in their structure.
In fact, considered as mere machines, the resemblance between them
and man is something wonderful. It is much closer than is suggested by
a mere comparison of outward forms. One must have read the results
arrived at by the most distinguished comparative anatomists, to under-
stand how close is the identity. Not merely does every bone, every
muscle, and every nerve in the one, find its analogue more or less de-
veloped in the other, but even in such minute particulars as the direction
of the hairs on the forearm converging towards the elbow, there is an ab-
solute correspondence.
It is in the brain, however, which is the most important organ, as
being that on which the specially human faculty of intelligence depends,
that the close physical resemblance between man and the other quadru-
mana is most striking. The brain of all quadrumanous animals is dis-
tinguished from that of quadrupeds by certain well-defined characters.
Those of lemurs, monkeys, baboons, and apes, show a progression of
these characters from the lemurs, whose brain differs little from that of
rodents, up to the anthropoid apes, the chimpanzee, the gorilla, and the
orang, who have a brain which in its most essential particulars closely
resembles that of man. In fact, the brain of these apes bridges over
much more than half the interval between the simplest quadrumanous
form of the lemur and the most advanced — that of man ; while in like
manner the brains of some of the inferior races of mankind, and of idiots,
where the development of the brain has been arrested, bridge over the
interval between man and ape, and in some extreme cases approach
more nearly to the latter than to the former type both in size and struc-
ture.
Attempt after attempt has been made to find some fundamental char-
acters in the human brain on which to base a generic distinction between
man and the brute creation, but such attempts have invariably broken
down under a close investigation. Thus, in the celebrated controversy
between Owen and Huxley, the former distinguished anatomist thought
that he had found such a distinction in the hinder part of the human
brain, but it turned out that he had been misled by relying on the plates
in the work of the Dutch anatomists Camper and Vrolik ; and Huxley.,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 91
confirmed by them, proved by actual dissection that all the characters on
which Owen relied were to be found equally in the brain of the chimpan-
zee and other higher quadrumana.
The distinction also on which the very term quadrumana is founded
is proved to be fallacious, for Huxley has shown that the termination of
the hinder limbs of the anthropoids is really a foot with a prehensile great
toe, and not a hand, and there are many instances, both of human indi-
viduals and races, in which this toe has considerable flexibility, and is
used in climbing trees or picking up small objects. And so in innumera-
ble other cases in which anatomical observations, supposed to be speci-
fically human, have either been found wanting in some individual men,
and present in some individual quadrumana, or have been traced in both
in some undeveloped or faetal condition.
And yet with this close identity of anatomical conditions there is, as
Huxley emphatically asserts, a wide gap between man and the highest
ape, which has never been bridged over, and which precludes the idea of
direct lineal descent from one to the other, though it implies close rela-
tionship. The differences are partly physical and partly intellectual
Of the former, it may be said that they may be all summed up in the fact
that man is specialized for erect posture.
Speaking broadly, it may be said that man is a member of the order
of Primates, specialized for erect posture ; while monkeys are specialized
for climbing trees, and anthropoid apes are a sort of intermediate link,
specialized mainly for forest life, but with a certain amount of capability
for walking erect and on the ground.
Thus, to begin at the foundation of the human structure, the foot,
with its solid heel bone, arch of the instep, and short toes, is obviously
better adapted for walking and worse for climbing than that of monkeys.
The upright basis of the foot corresponds with longer, stronger, and
straighter bones of the leg, and a greater development of muscles to move
them. The erect posture determines the shape of the pelvis and haunch
bones, which have to support the weight of the vertebral column and in-
testines in a vertical direction. The vertebral column, again, is arranged
with a slight double curvature, so as to enable the body to maintain an
upright posture, and to afford a vertical support for the head. And final-
ly, the larger brain is rendered possible by its weight being nicely bal-
anced on a vertical column, instead of hanging down and being supported
by powerful muscles requiring strong processes for lateral attachment in
the vertebrae of the neck.
Again, the fore-limbs being entirely relieved from the necessity of be-
ing used as supports, acquire the marvellous flexibility and adaptability
of the human arm and hand; a specialization which has doubtless a good
deal to do with man's superior intelligence, for as we see in the case of
the elephant, the intelligence of an animal depends not merely on the
mass of the brain, but very much on the nature of the organs by which it
92 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
is placed in relation with the surrounding environment In this respect
there is no animal organ comparable to the human hand, and we may
probably trace its influence in other divergencies of the human from the
bestial type. Thus, the greater development of the jaws and bones of the
face in animals, giving rise to a projecting muzzle, is no longer requisite
when the arm and hand afford so much better an instrument than the
mouth for seizing objects, and for attack or defence; while from the same
cause the canine teeth tend to diminish. In fact, the specialization of
improved types from the early generalized type, takes very often the form
of a reduction of the number of teeth to that required for the relations of
the new types to their environment Thus, in the pure carnivora, like
the cats, the molars disappear and the canines and sectorial premolars
assume a great development. In the Herbivora, on the other hand, the
molars are developed at the expense of the flesh-cutting teeth; and in civ-
ilized man there is a progressive diminution in the size of the jaws, which
hardly leaves room for the normal number of teeth, some of which are
probably destined to disappear, as the so-called wisdom-teeth have already
almost done.
Thus, from the single point of view of specialization for erect posture
we arrive at all the physical characteristics which distinguish man from the
monkeys and anthropoid apes. At the same time, it is a difference only
of adaptation and not of essense. The machine man differs from the
machine ape, much as the modern railway locomotive differs from the
old-fashoned pumping steam-engine. The essential parts, boiler, pistons,
cylinders, valves, are the same, but differently modified; those of the
locomotive being vastly better adapted for condensed energy and rapid
motion in a smaller compass. Still, no one can doubt their affinity and
common origin, or suppose that while the Newcomen engine owed its
existence to human invention, the Wild Irishman or Flying Scotchman
could only be accounted for by invoking supernatural agency.
This is precisely the case as regards man in his physical aspect It is
difficult to imagine that the combination of bones, muscles, and nerves,
which make a man, originated in any different manner than did the com-
bination of the same identical bones, muscles, and nerves, which make a
chimpanzee or gorilla. If one originated by evolution, the other must
have done so also; and conversely, if one came into being by special
miraculous creation, so also must the other, and not only the other, but
all the innumerable varieties of distinct species, now, and in past geo-
logical times, existing upon earth.
It is only when we come to the higher intellectual and moral faculties,
that the wide gulf appears between man and the animal creation, which it
is so difficult to bridge over. It is true that all or nearly all of these
faculties appear in a rudimentary state in animals, and that not only apes
and monkeys, but dogs, elephants, and others of the higher species, show
a certain amount of memory, reasoning power, affection, and other human
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 93
qualities; while, on the other hand, some of the inferior races of mankind
show very little of them. The chimpanzee Sally, in the Zoological
Gardens, and Sir John Lubbock's dog Van, can count up to five; while it
is said that three is the limit of the counting power of some of the
Australian tribes. The gorilla, in his native forests, according to the
accounts of travellers, lives respectably with a single wife and family, and
is a better husband and parent than many of our upper ten who figure in
Divorce Courts. Still, there is this wide distinction, that even in the
highest animals these faculties remain rudimentary, and seem incapable
of progress, while even in the lowest races of man they have reached a
much higher level, and seem capable of almost unlimited development
No human race has yet been discovered which, however savage, is en-
tirely destitute of speech, and of the faculty of tool-making in the widest
sense of adapting natural objects and forces to human purposes. As
regards speech, no animal has advanced beyond the first rudimentary
stage of uttering a few simple sounds, which by their modulations and
accent give expression to their emotions. They are in the first stage of
of what Max Muller calls the "bow-wow and pooh-pooh theory," and
even in this they have advanced but a little way. They have a very few
root-sounds, and those are all emotional. A dog or ape can express love,
hatred, alarm, pain, or pleasure, but has not risen even to the height of
coining roots imitating sounds of nature such as "crack " and "splash,"
and still less to that which all human races have attained to, of multiplying
these primitive roots indefinitely, by extending them by some sort of mental
analogy, to more abstract ideas; and connecting them by some sort of
grammar, by which they are made to express a variety of shades of mean-
ing and modifications of human thought Animals understand their own
simple language perfectly well, and to a certain extent some of the higher
orders, such as dogs and monkeys, can be taught to understand human
language, but no animal has ever learned to speak in the sense of using
a series of articulate sounds to convey meaning, though, as in the case of
the parrot, the vocal organ may be there, capable of uttering imitation
words and sentences.
As regards' tool-making, no human race is known which has not shown
some faculty in this direction. The rudest existing tribes, such as Bush-
men or Mincopies, chip stones, and are acquainted with fire and with the
bow and arrow, spear, or some corresponding weapon for offence and
defence. The highest apes have not got beyond the stage of using objects
actually provided for them by nature, for definite objects. Thus mon-
keys enjoy the warmth of a fire and sit over it, but have never got the
length of putting on coals or sticks to keep it up, much less of kindling
it when extinguished. Sally and Mafuca perfectly understood the use of
the keeper's key, and would steal and hide it, and use it to let themselves
out of their cage; but no chimpanzee or gorilla has ever been known to
fashion any implement, or do more than USP tU>e sticks and stones pro-
94 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
vided by nature, for throwing at enemies or cracking nuts. Their near •
est appproach to invention is shown in constructing rude huts or nests
from branches and leaves, for shelter and protection ; an art in which
both apes and savages are very inferior to most species of birds, to say
nothing of insects. The difference is a very fundamental one, for in the
case of man, we can trace a constant progression from the rudest form of
paleolithic chipped stones, up to the steam-engine and electric telegraph ;
but in the ape, we can discern no signs of progress, or of a capacity for
progress. It is conceivable that by taking a certain number of Bushmen
or Australians when young, placing them in a favorable environment,
and breeding selectively for intelligence, as we breed race-horses for speed,
or short-horns for fat, we might, in a few generations, produce a race far
advanced in culture; but it is not readily conceivable that we could do
the same with orangs or chimpanzees. It would be a most interesting
experiment to try how far we could go with them in this direction, but
unfortunately it cannot be tried, as we have no sufficient number of spec-
imens to begin with, and the race cannot be kept alive, and much less
perpetuated in our climate. Even if it could, there is no reason to ex-
pect that it would succeed up to the point of making a race of apes or
monkeys who could speak a primitive language or make primitive tools.
For the fundamental difference between them and man may be summed
up in the words " arrested development"
At an early age the difference between a young chimpanzee and a
young negro is not very great. The form and capacity of the skull, the
convolutions of the brain, and the intellectual and moral characters are
within a measurable distance of one another ; but as age advances, the
brain of the negro child continues to grow, and its intelligence to increase
up to manhood ; while in the case of the ape the sutures of the skull close,
the growth of the brain is arrested, and development takes the direction
of bony structure, giving rise to a projecting muzzle, protuberant crests
and ridges, and generally a more bestial appearance ; while the char-
acter undergoes a corresponding change and becomes less human-
like.
It is evident, therefore, that these two branches of the Primates, man
and ape, follow diverging lines of development, and can never be trans-
formed into one another, and that the "missing links" to connect the
human species with the common law of evolution of the animal kingdom,
are to be sought in other directions than that of direct descent from any
existing form of ape or monkey.
There are three lines of research which may be followed in looking
for traces of such missing links.
i. We may compare the higher with the lower varieties of the existing
human species, and see if we can discover any tendency towards a lower
form of ancestral development.
a. We may observe the results in the cases of arrested development
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 95
which occur in those unfortunate beings who are born idiots or microce-
phali,that is, with deficient brains.
3. We may explore the records of the past, of which we have now
numerous remains preserved in the fossil state.
The first and second of these lines give us a certain amount of clear
and positive result. Comparing civilized man with the Negro, Austra-
lian, Bushman, and other inferior races, we invariably find differences,
which all tend in the direction of the primitive " pentadactyle, plantigrade,
bunodont." The brain is of less volume, its convolutions less clearly
marked, the bony development of the skull, face, and muzzle more pro-
nounced, the legs shorter and frailer, the arms longer, the stature less.
The most primitive savage races known to us are apparently those
Pygmies who, like the Akkas and Bushmen of Africa, the Negrillos of
Asiatic islands, some of the hill tribes of India, and the Digger Indians of
North America, have been driven everywhere into the most inaccessible
forests and mountains by the invasion of superior races. The average
stature of many of these does not exceed four feet, and in some instances
fall as low as three feet six inches ; and in structure, as well as in appear-
ance and intelligence, there is no doubt that they approximate towards
the type of monkeys.
In the case of idiots, the resemblance to an animal type is carried
much further, so far, indeed, that they may be almost described as furnish-
ing one of the missing links. As Vogt says, " we need only place the
skulls of the negro, chimpanzee, and idiot side by side, to show that the
idiot holds, in every respect, an intermediate place between them."
Thus the average weight of the brain of Europeans is about 49 oz.,
while that of Negroes is 44 i-4 oz., and in some of the inferior races it is
still lower, descending to about 35 oz. in the case of some skulls of bush-
women. This approaches very closely to the limit of 32 oz. which Gra-
tiolet and Broca assign as the lowest weight of brain at which human in-
telligence begins to be possible, but in many cases of small-headed idiots
the weight descends much lower, and has even been observed as low as
10 oz. The average weight of the brain of the large anthropoid apes is
estimated at about 20 oz. , and in some cases is even higher, so that the
brains of some of the inferior human races stand about half-way between
those of the superior races and of the anthropoids, which latter again
differ more from those of the lemurs and inferior monkeys than they do
from those of man.
The approximation towards primitive conditions shown by a compari-
son of superior with inferior races, and of normally developed men with
idiots and apes, might have been expected to derive further confirmation
from tracing back the third line of inquiry, that of fossil remains.
And yet it is just here, where we might expect to find conclusive
evidence, that it has hitherto failed us. Not only have we found no foss.'l
remains which stand to modern man in something of the same relation as
96 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
the Hipparion does to the horse, but nothing has yet been discovered
which seems to carry us so far in that direction as is done by a compari-
son with some of the existing savage rates. The number of skulls and
skeletons dating back to early Quaternary times, distant from us certainly
not less than 50,000 years, and probably much more, is now so great as
to enable us to speak confidently as to their character, and even to classify
their different types. The oldest is that known as the Canstadt type,
the next oldest that of Cro-Magnon. Now the Cro-Magnon type is not
only not a degraded one, but, physically speaking, that of a fine race,
tall in stature, with large and symmetrical brain-structure, and on the
whole on a par with some of the best modern races.
The Canstadt type is somewhat more rude, and in extreme cases, like
that of the celebrated Neanderthol skull, so simious in the low forehead
and massive bony ridges, that at first sight it was thought that one of the
missing links had really been discovered. But further inquiry showed
that this was only an extreme instance of a type which is presented by nu-
merous other skulls of a character entirely human, certainly not inferior to
that of existing savages, and which may be traced as surviving among
many of the best European races. Even in the extreme case of the Ne-
anderthol skull, the brain was of fair capacity, and a modern skull, that
of Lykke, a Dane of distinguished intellectual capacity, is preserved in
the museum at Copenhagen, which closely resembles it in all its principal
peculiarities.
If the Tertiary skulls of Olmo, Castelnedolo, and Calaveras are ac-
cepted as genuine, they carry us back much further in the same direction.
Everything about these remains is entirely human, and in the female skull
of Castelnedolo, M. Quatrefages thinks he can discover a specimen of one
of the milder and less savage forms of the Canstadt type.
Reports occasionally reach us of discoveries of alleged missing links,
but they lack confirmation. The nearest approach to a scientific fact is
afforded by a human jaw found in the Cave of La Naulette, in Belgium,
in which Mortillet and other good authorities assert that the genial tuber-
cle is wanting. This is a small bony excrescence on the chin, to which
the muscle of the tongue is attached, and is said to be necessary for the
movements of the tongue which render speech possible. It is absent in
the monkey and all non-speaking animals, and Mortillet asserts that in
the Naulette skull the bone is absent, and its place shows a hollow. He
argues that the primitive men of the Neanderthol or Canstadt type were
incapable of speech, and his conclusion is thought probable by several
good authorities. But the induction seems too wide to be drawn from a
single instance, and as far as I am aware, it has not been confirmed by
any other undoubted specimen of early palaeolithic man.
We are still therefore without any conclusive evidence of human evolu-
tion from fossils, and the negative evidence remains, that while so many
rik>oene and Miocene formations have been explored, and so many miss-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 97
ing links of other animal forms have been discovered, no such links have
yet been found in the case of the human species.
What can be said to these facts ? Only this, that if the missing links
exist, they must be sought much further back. From the wide diffusion
of mankind over nearly the whole of the habitable globe in early Quater-
nary times, it is clear that if the race originated like other animal races
from evolution, the origin must be sought in a much more remote antiq-
uity. The existence of the Dryopithecus and other anthropoid apes in
the Middle Miocene, shows that the development of another branch, so
closely allied to man in physical structure, had been completed in the
first half of the Tertiary period. Unless we assume direct descent, and not
parallel development for the two species, why should the starting-point of
man be later than that of the Dryopithecus ? The horse, whose ancestral
pedigree is the best established of any of the existing mammals, was already
in existence in the Pliocene period, and the Hipparion, which is the first
of the links connecting him with the primitive mammal, is first found in
the Miocene and not later than the Pliocene. Why should the develop-
ment of man have begun later, and followed a more rapid course than
that of the horse? Man, as M. Quatrefages observes, must, from his.
superior intelligence and knowledge of fire and clothing, have been more
able to resist changes of climate and environment than many of the animals
which undoubtedly outlived the change from the Tertiary to the Quarter-
nary period, and even survived the excessive rigor of the Glacial epoch.
If, as seems almost certain, the first origins of man are to be sought as
far back as the Miocene, we can hardly expect to find many specimens of
the missing link. If we find such an abundance of palaeolithic remains
early in the Quaternary period, it must be because the human race had
long existed, and been driven by the pressure of increasing population to
diffuse themselves over nearly the whole of the habitable globe. But this
radiation from the original birth-place must have been extremely slow,
and immense periods must have elapsed before it reached the countries
which have been the fields of scientific research. Again, great geological
changes have taken place since the Miocene period, and it is quite prob-
able that the earliest scene of man's development may be now submerged
beneath the Atlantic or Pacific Oceans.
In Miocene times, when Greenland and Spitzbergen supported a luxuriant
vegetation, such a continent would be found to the north, possibly in that
submerged northern continent which afforded a bridge for the passage of
so many forms of animal life between the Old and New Worlds. In
fact, many geologists incline to the conclusion that the more recent forms
of animal and vegetable life have migrated southwards from this circum-
polar Miocene land, and not northwards from tropical regions.
In any case the conclusion seems certain, from the failure to discover
any missing links in the later formations, that either a vast period of time
must have elapsed since man first began to be specialized from the
98 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
tive mammalian type, or that he is an exception to the general law of
evolution, and owes his origin to some miraculous act of secondary super-
natural interference. The solution of this question must be sought in
two directions: firstly, the probable duration of the Quaternary period,
during which the existence of man as a component part of the Quaternary
fauna is no longer doubtful; secondly, the evidence for his existence
much farther back into the Tertiary period in common with many of the
animal types with which he is associated. This evidence is accumulating,
and any day may bring us conclusive proof by the discovery of some
"missing link" in the Miocene or Eocene formations, bearing the same
relation to man as the Hipparion and its ancestors do to the horse. In
the meantime, the attitude of the scientific world must be described as
one of eager expectation rather than of assured knowledge, and this most
important and interesting of all problems must be relegated among the
problems of the future.
CHAPTER VII.
ANIMAL MAGNETISM AND SPIRITUALISM.
THE volume by Messrs. Binet and Y6r6, published in the International
Scientific Series, gives a lucid view of the recent researches by
which the mysterious subjects comprised under the cognate heads of ani-
mal magnetism, hypnotism, somnambulism, catalepsy, hallucination, and
spiritualism have been, to a considerable extent, brought within the do-
main of experimental science. The existence of extraordinary phenomena
in this misty region had been known since the time of Mesmer, and at
times professors of what seemed to be something very like the black art,
had excited a temporary sensation, which died out as their tricks were ex-
posed, or as folly changed its fashion. But there was such an atmosphere
of imposture, delusion, and superstitious credulity about the whole subject,
that rational men, and especially men of science really competent to make
experimental inquiries, turned from it in disgust
The first step towards a really scientific inquiry was made by Dr. Braid,
a well-known surgeon in Manchester, about forty-five years ago. He
proved conclusively that the state known as mesmerism, or artificial som-
nambulism, could be produced by straining the eyes for a short time to
look at a given object.
A black wafer stuck on a white wall could do just as much as a Mes-
mer with his flowing robes and magic wand. This led to the further con-
clusion that anything that strained the attention, or in other words ex-
cited certain sensory centres of the brain abnormally, threw it, so to speak,
out of gear, and caused both sensory and motor nervous centres to behave
in a very extraordinary and unusual manner.
Thus it produced a state of anaesthesia, and if chloroform had not
proved a more generally efficacious and manageable agent, hypnotism
would probably have been employed to this day in surgical operations.
Healing effects also were produced, which bordered very closely on what
used to be considered as miraculous cures, and in several cases Braid liter-
ally made the blind to see and the lame to walk, by directing a stream of
vital energy to a paralyzed nerve.
Still more extraordinary were the effects produced in exalting the facul-
ties and paralyzing the will. Muscular force could in certain cases be so
increased that a limb became as rigid as a bar of iron, and memory so
stimulated that words and scenes scarcely noticed at the time, and long
since forgotten, started into life with wonderful vividness and accuracy.
99
ioo BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Thus in one of Dr. Braid's experiments, an ordinary Scotch servant-
girl startled him by repeating a passage from the Bible in Hebrew. It
turned out that she had been maid to a Scotch minister who was learn-
ing Hebrew, and who used to walk about his study reciting passages from
the Hebrew text.
Another instance shows the remarkable obliteration of the will in
hypnotized subjects. A puritanical old lady, to whom dancing was an
abomination, was sent capering about the room by playing a reel tune on
a piano, and telling her to join in the dance.
Dr. Braid's experiments, however, did not carry the subject much
farther than to make people believe that there was really something in it,
and the subsequent rise of spiritualism, with its vulgar machinery of
table-turning and spirit-rapping, and frequent exposures in police-courts,
once more repelled rational men and consigned the subject to oblivion.
But within the last few years a school has arisen of French medical
men, connected with the hospital of Salpetriere, at Paris, who have taken
up the subject in a thoroughly scientific spirit, and have arrived at truely
wonderful results. This hospital, affording as it does a constant supply
of hysterical and epileptic patients, presents peculiar facilities for con-
ducting a series of experiments. In cases of individual experiments there
is always danger of error from simulation on the part of the patient, or
delusion on that of the operator. But here the experiments were con-
ducted by a body of scientific and sceptical men, selected from the flower
of French surgeons and physicians, and the patients were so varied and
numerous, that by proper precautions it was possible to eliminate the
element of conscious imposture. This supply of a large number of
patients, suffering from hysteria and other nervous disorders, was an es-
sential element for success, for it is with this class of patients, and espec-
ially of female patients, that the phenomena can be produced with most
completeness and certainty. It is a moot point whether all human
organisms are subject more or less to the influence of hypnotism; but it
is certain that with healthy adults not more than one out of every five or
six subjects can be hypnotized at the first attempt, and a great majority
of those who can, are only so in a slight degree.
The liability, however, to hypnotic influence increases rapidly by prac-
tice, so that nervous patients on whom the process is repeated, may be
soon brought into a state in which the slightest hint or suggestion is suf-
ficient to produce the abnormal condition. Thus a highly sensitive
patient may be hypnotized, if led to believe that an operator is making
passes in an adjoining room, although he is not really there; while, on
the other hand, the weight of evidence is against any effect being pro-
duced by real passes, if the patient is totally unaware of anything of the
sort going on, or being expected.
But with the class of patients at the Salpetriere, the various effects can,
in many cases, be produced with as much precision and certainty, as
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. loi
when a bar of iron is magnetized or de-magnetized by turning on or off
an electric current through a coil of copper wire surrounding it
These effects may be classed under two heads — physical, and mental
or psychical. Not but that the latter depend ultimately on mechanical
movements of nerve-centres of the brain, but they are connected with will,
consciousness, and other phenomena which we are accustomed to con-
sider as mental. The purely physical efforts, again, may be classified
under three heads, viz. : those of lethargy, catalepsy, and somnambulism.
The divisions shade off into one another, but the typical states are suffi-
ciently distinct to justify this classification, which is due to M. Charcot,
the Director of the Salpetriere.
In lethargy the patient appears to be in the deepest sleep. In fact, all
the functions of mind and body, except the bare life, seem to be sus-
pended. The eyes are closed, the body is perfectly helpless ; the limbs
hang slackly down, and if they are raised they drop heavily into the same
position. The characteristic feature of this state is that any excitement
of the muscles either direct or through a stimulus applied to the connect-
ing motor nerve produces what is called a contracture. Thus if the ulnar
nerve is pressed, the third and fourth fingers of the corresponding hand
are forcibly contracted, and so for every other nerve and corresponding
muscle of the body. This evidently affords a perfect security against
simulation, for no one who was not a skilled anatomist would know what
muscles were connected with a particular nerve.
One of the most remarkable phenomena connected with these con-
tractures is that they may be produced by a magnet not in physical con-
tact with the nerve or muscle excited, and still more wonderful, that it
may be transferred by a magnet from one side of the body to the other.
Thus if the fingers of the right hand have been contracted by pressure on
the ulnar nerve of the right arm, and a magnet is brought close to that
nerve, both hands become agitated with slight jerking movements, and
soon the contracture of the right fingers ceases, and is transferred to the
same fingers of the left hand. We shall see later that in more advanced
stage of hypnotism still more marvellous effects are produced by the
magnet, even to the extent of transferring moral emotions into their op-
posites, as love into hatred, or hatred into love.
In the meantime, it may be sufficient" to observe that these experiments
with the magnet seem to point out the most likely way of bringing these
mysterious phenomena within the domain of accurate science, and here
the researches of the Salpetriere school seem to be deficient We are
merely told that the magnet produces certain effects, but we want to
know at what distance does it produce these effects. Do the effects and
distance vary with the power of the magnet ? are they produced differently
by the presentation of the positive or negative pole ? are they produced
by an electro-magnet or by electric currents ? is there any and what re-
action bv the nerve or muscle on the magnet ? and other similar ques-
102 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
tions. When these are certainly known and can be expressed in terms
of weight and movement, we shall have made the first solid and secure
step in advance towards a solution of the more complicated problems.
The next stage is that of catalepsy, into which lethargy may be made
to pass by simply opening the eyelids. But although so closely allied to
lethargy, the states are very different In catalepsy all power of movement,
or of resistance to movement, is absolutely suspended, and the body is
like a lump of plastic clay, which may be moulded into, and will retain,
any form given to it by the operator. In fact the subject becomes a lay
figure, with this difference only, that he remains so only for some ten or
fifteen minutes, after which the constrained positions give way to natural
ones. But that he is a bond fide lay figure for the time is proved by regis-
tering the movements of the extended arm and the regularity of the res-
piration, by means of tracing instruments, and comparing them with those
of a healthy man voluntarily assuming the same position. The contrast
of the tracings is most remarkable. That of the arm extended by cata-
lepsy is a straight line showing absolutely no tremors ; while that of the
arm voluntarily extended, shows such a series of abrupt and increasing
oscillations as to make it quite conceivable how thought-reading may be
possible by contact between persons of exceptionally delicate nervous
organization.
Another remarkable feature in catalepsy is that the position in which
the body is placed seems to react on the mind, and call up the emotions,
and their reflex muscular motions, which are habitually associated with
the attitude. Thus if the head is depressed the face assumes the expres-
sion of humility; if elevated that of pride.
The most extraordinary phenomena known are those of somnambulism
and of the artificial somnambulism which is produced by animal
magnetism or hypnotism. These are of various stages, graduating from
that of ordinary waking dreams to that of profound hypnotism in which
will, consciousness, memory, and perception, are affected in a way which
at first sight appears to be truly magical or supernatural. The symptoms
may be classed for convenience as physical or psychical, although the
latter are really physical, depending ultimately on movements of nerve-
centres.
The direct physical effect seems to be the exact opposite of that of
lethargy, viz. : that the senses, instead of being asleep, have their sensibility
exalted in an extraordinary degree. Thus subjects feel the heat or cold
produced by breathing from the mouth at a distance of several yards.
The hearing is so acute that a conversation may be overheard which is
carried on in the floor below.
The amount of this exaltation of the senses can almost be measured.
There is a familiar experiment in which the impression of two points, as
of seperate pencils near one another, is felt as one, and an instrument has
been constructed, known as Weber's compasses, which measures the
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 103
amount of deviation necessary to produce a twofold sensation. This
deviation appears to be six times greater in the waking than in the
somnambulistic state, whence it may be inferred that the sensibility of
the sense of touch has been exalted sixfold.
A similar exaltation is produced in the faculty of memory, as shown
in the instance already quoted, in which an ignorant servant-girl recited a
long passage in Hebrew. As in dreams, perceptions long since photo-
graphed on the brain and completely forgotten seem to be revived with
all the vividness of actually present perceptions, when recalled by some
association with the dominant idea which has taken possession of the mind.
This arises doubtless, in a great measure, from the mind being closed
against the innumerable other impressions which, in the waking state,
wholly or partially neutralize any one suggested idea, and weaken its
impression. Thus a somnambulist walks securely along a narrow plank,
because no other outward impressions of surrounding objects confuse his
mind with suggestions of danger.
It is, however, when we come to the partly psychical phenomena of
hallucination and suggestion, that the results are most startling
and most opposed to ordinary experience. What is an hallucina-
tion ? It may be described in one word as seeing the invisible and not
seeing the visible. And the same of the other senses. They not only
deceive us, but give evidence directly contradictory of that of the waking
senses. We hear the inaudible, and are deaf to the audible; we touch the
intangible, and lose touch of the tangible; bitter tastes sweet, and sweet
bitter. The fundamental fact seems to be, that if certain conditions or
molecular movements of certain sensory nerve-centres of the brain are
caused, no matter how, the corresponding perceptions, with their train of
associated ideas and reflex movements, inevitably follow. In the normal
waking state these conditions are created by real objects conveyed to the
brain through the senses. We see a man, and we conclude him to be a
real man because our other senses confirm the testimony of sight. If he
speaks we hear him, if we touch him we feel him, and the evidence of all
other people who see and hear him confirms our experience. But in
dreams we have the commencement of a different experience, for we see
and hear distinctly for the time, though in a fleeting and imperfect man-
ner, scenes and persons which have no real objective existence. In
hallucinations we have the same thing, only in a waking or partially
waking state, and the impressions made are vastly more vivid and per-
manent
Take the following as instances of positive hypnotic hallucinations, or
seeing the invisible, recorded by Messrs. Bmet and Fere" from their experi-
ence at the Salpetreiere. A patient told to look at a butterfly which had
just alighted on the table before her, immediately said, "Oh, what a
beautiful butterfly," and proceeded cautiously to catch it and impale the
imaginary butterfly with a pin on a piece of cardboard. Another patient
104 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
being shown a photographic plate with an impression of a scene in the
Pyrenees, and told that it was a portrait of herself in a very unbecoming
dress, or rather want of dress, immediately saw it so, and was so enraged,
that she threw the plate on the ground and stamped on it. And what is
remarkable, as showing the intensity and persistency of these hallucina-
tions, for nearly two months afterwards, when shown in her waking state
photographs of this landscape which had been taken from the plate, she
saw her own portrait, and fell into fits of passion. In another case, a pa-
tient being told that one of the hospital doctors would be present at a ball
to be given next night among the immates of Salpetriere, saw, conversed,
and walked about with this imaginary doctor, who was not really present,
and when she saw the real man the day after, could not recognize him un-
til she had been again hypnotized, and the hallucination dispelled.
The negative experiences of making the visible invisible are even more
extraordinary. Take the following case. " We suggested to a hypnotized
patient that when she awoke she would be unable to see F . She
could not see him, and asked what had become of him. We replied, ' He
has gone out; you may return to your room. ' She rose, said good morn-
ing, and going to the door knocked up against F , who had placed
himself before it. We next took a hat, which she saw quite well, and
touched it so as to be sure that it was really there. We placed it on F
's head, and words cannot express her surprise when she saw the
hat apparently suspended in the air. F took off the hat and salu-
ted her with it several times, when she saw it, without any support, de-
scribing curves in the air. She declared the hat must be suspended by
a string, and even got on a chair to feel for it. "
Numerous other instances equally remarkable are recorded, and there
is a whole class of cases in which suggestions impressed on the subject's
mind in a state of hypnotism may long afterwards, and when totally for-
gotten, be revived at predicted periods, with irresistible force, in the
waking mind and produce the effects corresponding to the idea as by
an inevitable piece of machinery. This brings the subject within the
domain of criminal jurisprudence, for there is abundant evidence that a
normally moral person may obey a hypnotic suggestion which had been
totally forgotten, even to the extent of committing the greatest crimes, as
attempting to stab or administer poison. Thus M. Fe"re relates that hav-
ing ordered a subject in a state of somnambulism on awakening to stab
M. B with the pasteboard knife he put into her hand, as soon as she
awoke she rushed on him and struck him in the region of the heart. M.
B feigned to fall down. The subject, being asked why she had
killed him, replied with an expression of ferocity, " He is an old villain
and wished to insult me."
It is evident that if these phenomena are real, hypnotism ought to be
regulated by law as much as the far less dangerous practice of vivisection.
The practice of it should be confined to licensed medical practitioners,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 105
and under conditions requiring the presence of at least two or more wit-
nesses, one of whom, especially in the case of females, should be some
respectable friend or relative. I prefer, however, not to dwell on this
branch of the question, but to return to its purely scientific and philo-
sophical aspects.
The purely mechanical origin of these hallucinations is shown by a
number of interesting experiments. An hallucinatory image can be re-
flected, refracted, or made to appear double, in precisely the same
manner as a real one. Thus in what is known as Brewster's experiment,
where an image is duplicated by a slight lateral pressure on one eye"
throwing it out of focus with the other, the same effect is produced. A
case is recorded where an hysterical patient who had a vision of the Vir-
gin Mary appearing in great glory, saw two Virgins directly this lateral
pressure was applied. Complementary colors also appear to an hallu-
cinatory image of a red or green spot on a sheet of white cardboard, just
as they would in the waking state if the spot were real. The magnet
also, by a purely mechanical action, transfers unilateral hallucinations
which affect one eye only, from the right to the left eye, and vice versd,
and it may be made to destroy an hallucination, as when X was
made invisible to an hypnotic subject, on applying a magnet to the back
of the head, X again became visible.
And what is still more wonderful, the magnet is capable of transferring
emotions. Thus the idea was impressed on a hypnotized subject, that
on awaking she would feel a desire to strike F . A magnet was
placed near her right foot. On awaking, she jumped up and tried to give
F a slap, saying, " I do not know why, but I feel a desire to strike
him." In another moment, her face assumed a gentle and endearing ex-
pression, and she said, " I want to embrace him," and tried hard to do
so. Consecutive oscillations between love and hatred were then observed.
Another most remarkable phenomenon is recorded. It was suggested
to a subject X that she had become M. F . On awaking, she
was unable to see M. F , who was present, but she exactly imitated
his gestures, put her hands in her pockets, and stroked an imaginary
moustache. When asked if she was acquainted with herself, X , she
replied with a contemptuous shrug, " Oh, yes, an hysterical patient What
do you think of her ? She is not too wise. "
There are two experiments recorded which throw a good deal of light
on the phenomena of what is known as spiritualism. In slight hypnotism,
the subject assert, on awaking, that they have never for a moment lost
consciousness, and that they have been present as witness at the phenom-
ena of suggestion developed by the magnetizers, In another case, the
furniture of the room seemed to the subject to be noisily moved about by
invisible hands, being really displaced by F — , who had been rendered
invisible by suggestion. It is evident that if there is any real residue of
facts in the phenomena of spiritualistic seances, after deducting what is
io6 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
due to legerdemain and imposture, the above experiments would go a long
way to account for them. The preliminaries of a stance, such as dark-
ened rooms, contact of hands, and excited imagination, are almost iden-
tical with those employed by Mesmer, and it would be contrary to ex-
perience if they did not frequently produce, on susceptible subjects, hyp-
notic effects which made them susceptible to hallucinating suggestions.
If so, there is no doubt that they might see tables move and Mr. Home
float in the air, with a full conviction that they were awake all the time
and in possession of their ordinary senses.
This much I would observe, that all these attempts to escape from
the inexorable laws of nature invariably fail. Spiritualism is grasped at
by many because it seems to hold out a hope of escaping trom those laws
and proving the existence of disembodied spirits. But when analyzed by
science, spiritualism leads straight to materialism. What are we to think
of free will, if, as in the case of Dr. Braid's old lady, it can be annihilated
and the will of another brain substituted for it, by the simple mechani-
cal expedient of looking at a black wafer struck on a white wall ? Or
what becomes of personal consciousness and identity if, as in the case
above quoted, a young woman can be brought to refer to herself with
contemptuous pity as a strange girl, who "was not over wise"? These
cases of an alternating identity are most perplexing, Smith falls into a
trance and believes himself to be Jones. He really is Jones, and Smith
has become a stranger to him while the trance lasts; but when he awakes
he is himself, Smith, again, and forgets all about Jones. He falls into
another trance, and straightway he forgets Smith and takes up his Jones
existence where he dropped it in the previous trance, and so he may go on
alternating between Smith and Jones. I often ask myself the question —
If he died during one of his trances which would he be Smith or Jones?
and I confess that it takes some one wiser than I am to answer it.
Again, what can be said of love and hate, if under given circumstances
they can be transformed into one another by the action of a magnet ? It
is evident that these phenomena all point to the conclusion that all we
call soul, spirit, consciousness, and personal identity, are indissolubly
connected with mechanical movements of the material elements of nerve-
cells, and that if we want any further solution, we must go down deeper
and ask what this matter, and what these movements, or rather the energy
which causes them, may really mean. Can the antithesis between soul
and body, spirit and matter, be solved by being both resolved into one
eternal and universal substratum of existence ? When Shakespeare said —
" We are such stuff as dreams are made of,"
he enunciated what has become a scientific fact The "stuff" is in all
cases the same — vibratory motions of nerve-particles.
The researches of the French school of physiologists throw a good deal
of light on the mysterious regions of phenomena, or alleged phenomena,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 107
which are classed under the general beads of thought-reading, clairvoy-
ance, and spiritualism. Those of thought-reading and clairvoyance may
be summed up in the question whether or no it is possible for one brain
to communicate with another, otherwise, than through the ordinary
medium of the senses. It is certain that in the immense majority of cases
it is not possible. Consider how the ideas or perceptions of A are com-
municated to B. Certain movements of the brain-cells of A which are, if
not the cause, the invariable concomitants of those ideas and perceptions,
send currents along the nerves, which at their extremities contract mus-
cles and cause movements. These are transmitted, in the case of hearing,
by sound-waves of air; in that of sight by light-waves of ether, to the
nerve-endings of B, and along those nerves to his brain, where they origi-
nate cell-movements corresponding to the original movements in the brain
of A, and which are accompanied by the same train of ideas and percep-
tions. In the sense of touch, there is no intermediate medium between
the nerve-endings of A and B, and the movements of the former are com-
municated directly to those of B by contact The senses of taste and
smell are hardly used by the human species as means of communicating
ideas, though in many animal species, as in the dog, the latter sense is
one which is greatly used in placing them in relation with their environ-
ment,
This also may be affirmed respecting the different senses, that they are
capable of being brought to an exceptional degree of susceptibility by
necessity and practice, as is well illustrated by the facility with which the
blind substitute the sense of touch for that of sight, and read fluently
books printed with raised letters. The sense of sight also may be brought
to a degree of unusual acuteness, enabling the observer to read indica-
tions in the face and expression so slight as to be invisible to the ordinary
sense, and of which the person observed is himself unconscious. A re-
markable instance of this is given by Sir John Lubbock, of a dog who
could pick out from a series of numbers on cards laid on the floor the
correct answer of sums in arithmetic, and even extract cube-roots, doubt-
less by observing unconscious indications in his master's face when he
touched the correct card.
This, no doubt, goes a long way towards explaining the phenomena
of what is called thought-reading. It is quite conceivable that, with con-
tact, an exceptionally delicate sense of touch, exceptionally cultivated,
may enable a man to read the insensible tremors which are unconsciously
transmitted to nerve-ends and superficial muscles, the existence of which
is a necessary consequence of all brain-motion or thought, and which is
proved to exist as a matter of fact by the irregularities in the line traced by
a pencil under suitable conditions. And it is to be remarked that keep-
ing the mind fixed on the idea, in other words, making the corresponding
brain-motions and nerve-currents stronger and more persistent, is the
condition usually required for a successful experiment in thought-reading.
I08 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Thus far, and Mr. Cumberland the most successful thought-reader of
the day carries it no farther, there is nothing impossible, or even d priori
improbable, in the assertion that thought may be thus read. It is a ques-
tion of evidence, and here the weight of the negative evidence is so great
that it requires extremely strong proof to establish exceptions. It is a
matter of notoriety that persons, even of delicate temperaments, may lie
in the closest contact, clasped in each other's arms, without either having
the remotest idea of what is passing in the mind of the other, unless it is
conveyed by the ordinary channels of sight or hearing. On the other
hand, the evidence for a few rare exceptions is strong, especially in the
case of some of Mr. Cumberland's experiments, which are all the stronger
because he does not pretend to any supernatural power, and shows none
of the ordinary signs of an impostor. All we can say, therefore, is that
where there is no contact, or where unconscious indications may be read
by the eye, there is nothing in thought-reading inconsistent with the
known laws of nature ; but that the evidence, though strong, is hardly
strong enough to enable us to accept it as an established fact.
But when we come to thought-reading at a distance, and to the analo-
gous alleged phenomena of clairvoyance, fulfilled dreams and visions, and
communications across the globe, mostly from the dead and dying, such
as are so plentifully recorded in the annals of the Psychical Research
Society, the case is different. If they are true, we must assume either a
reversal of the known laws of nature, or an otherwise unknown and un-
proved addition to them. Vibrations cannot be transmitted without a
medium, and in the supposed cases the medium is certainly not the air
which transmits sound-waves, or the ether which transmits waves of light,
heat, and chemical energy, or any modification of it which transmits
magnetism or electricity. It must either be some sort of personal aura,
or a universal aura which pervades space, and is specially adapted for
transmitting brain and nerve vibrations, and those only. But the evidence
is overwhelming against the existence of such a medium. In the case of
the real mediums, air and ether, they respond invariably and uniformly
to the same stimuli ; but we may point our fingers to the end of time to a
magnet without making it vibrate, and think for ever of absent friends
without conveying to them the slightest intimation. It is only in the
rarest exceptional cases that the contrary is even alleged, and that only
under conditions which may either be accounted for by coincidence or
imposture, or which not only lie outside of, but directly in conflict with,
known laws of nature. This is most apparent in the cases which fall
under the heads of clairvoyance or supernatural communications. Con-
sider the enormous number of dreams, 300,000,000 at least, of civilized
human beings dreaming for most nights of the year, and these dreams all
made up of fragments of actual scenes and persons, which have been
photographed on the brain. The wonder is not that there should be
occasional coincidences between dreams and contemporaneous or subse*
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 109
quent occurrences, but that there should be so few of them. How many
anxious brains must hc.ve dreamt of absent friends or relations dying or
in danger, and in how many millions of cases must the dream not have
been verified. And how many vivid dreams, or dreams in the dozing
state, between sleeping and waking, must have passed into the stage of
hallucination, and been taken for actual visions. And how weak is
memory, and how strong the myth-making propensity of the human mind
to convert these dreams and visions into waking realities. Of the many
cases of distant communications collected by the Psychical Research
Society, I do not know of one which may not be thus accounted for;
and in some the proof is conclusive, as where visions have been seen or
impressions felt of events before they occurred, owing to the difference of
time due to longitude.
In the case of spiritualism it is remarkable that it is only the more
vulgar and grotesque forms which there is any difficulty in explaining.
We understand how spirits are materialized, for the apparatus has been
frequently exposed in the police-courts ; there is nothing very mysterious
in the way in which slight hints and clues are followed up by professional
mediums. And there is this conclusive consideration that the spirits
never say or know anything which has not passed through the mind of the
medium. If he is illiterate, the spirits would be plucked for their spell-
ing ; if he is weak in his h's, so are they ; if he makes a mistake or is en-
trapped into a contradiction, they follow suit In no single instance has
any communication of the slightest use or novelty been made by these
visitors from another world.
In short, the whole affair is obviously legerdemain in wrapping or writ-
ing on slates, answers to questions known to the medium, supplemented
by any hints or clues he may possess, and in the absence of these by such
commonplaces as "we are happy," "we are with you." I saw a con-
clusive proof of this in the only experience I ever had with a professional
medium, one of great repute. The question put was, "What was my
mother's Christian name ?" This was written on a slate out of sight of
the medium, and turned down, and apparently held by one of his hands
under a table, while the other hand was held by the questioner. Nothing
occurred for a while, but then began a series of groans and twistings by
the medium, which I took to be part of the usual conjuror's patter to
divert attention ; but looking closely, I distinctly saw a corner of the
slate reversed under the table, with the writing on it uppermost, followed
by the scratching of a pencil, after which the answer was produced,
alleged to have been written by the spirits. But mark what the answer
was ! The " m" of " mother" had been written not very legibly, with the
first stroke too long, so that at a hasty glance in a constrained position it
might be easily read as "brother." And sure enough the answer came,
"Your brother's spirit not being here we do not know his Christian name."
This was my first and last experience of omniscient spirits, and it was
no BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
perfectly apparent that it was only a piece of very simple and very clumsy
legerdemain. No doubt things more marvellous are done by superior
legerdemain, but nothing that I have ever heard of that is beyond the re-
sources of legerdemain, or which is so wonderful as the mango and other
tricks of Indian jugglers. No one who has not studied the art of leger-
demain can be aware how great its resources are, and how completely the
senses may be deceived by a skillful operator.
Nor is it at all difficult to understand how slight clues may be used by
an experienced operator, to give what are apparently astounding answers.
Thus if a medium happens to know that a death has at any time occurred
in the family of the questioner, the answer rapped or written out is sure to
profess to come from the spirit of the deceased relative.
If any doubt had remained as to the nature of these spiritualistic ex-
periences, it would have been removed by the report made in 1887 by the
Scybert Commission. In this case Mr. Scybert, an enthusiastic spiritualist
in the United States, bequeathed a considerable sum of money to the
University of Philadelphia, on the condition that it should appoint a
Commission to investigate modern spiritualism. Ten commissioners were
appointed, including several professors and well known men of science;
some of whom, including their chairman, Dr. Furness, confessed "to a
leaning in favor of the substantial truth of spiritualism." They took
great pains with the investigation, which was conducted with scrupulous
fairness, and examined many of the most famous mediums, among whom
was the well-known Dr. Slade. Their unanimous report was that the
whole thing was based on "gross, intentional fraud." They saw dis-
tinctly how the tricks were effected, and a professional conjuror, Mr.
Kellar, who had been at first baffled by the phenomena of slate-writing,
having turned his attention more closely to this branch of conjuring, was
able not only to repeat the processes of the best mediums, but to do so
with far greater skill, and produce effects which they could not imitate;
while he has given a challenge to the spiritualistic world that he will
reproduce by sleight-of-hand any alleged spiritualistic phenomena which
he has witnessed three times.
This report is so conclusive to any reasonable mind, that it is scarcely
necessary to refer to the mass of corroborative evidence to the same effect
such for instance as the confession of the Fox family, that the rappings, in
which the spiritualistic faith originated, were produced by a knack they
had of half-dislocating toe and knee joints, and replacing them with a
sudden snap, a knack which, singularly enough, is also possessed by
Professor Huxley; the confessions of Home and other exposed mediums;
and the experiences of Mr. Davy, Mrs. Sedgwick, and others, related in
the last volume of the Psychical Research Society.
Those who are not convinced by such proofs as these are impervious
to reason, and it would be a waste of words to argue the matter any
farther. It may be assumed as a demonstrated fact, that all the
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. in
pkenomena which profess to be based on a communication with a spirit-
ual world are, in the words of the Scybert Report, simply instances of
vulgar legerdemain, and of human credulity.
It is only when we come to what may be called the tomfoolery of
spiritualism, such as unmeaning tricks of dancing chairs and tables, that
we are left in doubt how some of the appearances are produced. There
is a good deal of evidence from persons whose good faith cannot be
doubted, that they have seen pieces of furniture move at the end of a room,
without any contact or apparent cause, and that this took place in private
houses, where there was no possibility of prepared machinery.
The mediums say it is done by spirit-hands. This is obviously ab-
surd, for it is not a case which lies outside of known laws of Nature, but
one which radically conflicts with them. As long as the law of motion
holds " that action and reaction are equal and opposite," there can be no
action without a solid point of resistance. Archimedes said that he could
move the world if you gave him a xov tirao, or fulcrum, on which to rest
his machinery, and the ghost of Archimedes, if summoned from the Elys-
ian fields at the bidding of a seedy professional medium, could say no
more. Spirit-hands must be attached to a solid spirit body, standing on
solid feet on a solid floor, to lift a weight. And the same thing applies
to any supposed magnetic or psychic force enacted by the medium. If
the medium pulls the chair, the chair must pull the medium, and it be-
comes a case of ' ' pull devil, pull baker. " If a magnet lifts an iron bar,
it is because the magnet is fixed to some point of attachment.
The question therefore resolves itself into one either of hallucination
or legerdemain. Do the chairs and tables really move, or only seem to
move ? There seem no trustworthy evidence as to this fundamental
point, and yet it is one easily determined. Does the house-maid when
she comes into the room next morning, or any one who has not been un-
der the influence of the seance, find the furniture where it was originally,
or where it seemed to be ? If it was really moved, who moved it ? Here,
also, hallucination might come into play in another form for if, as de-
scribed in the experiment of Binet and Fe're', already mentioned, the
medium could release his hands without being perceived, and render
himself invisible by suggestion, or perform the trick in a dark room, he
could easily move the chairs himself without being seen. This seems the
more probable, as in all the accounts I have read, the articles moved do
not exceed the weight which the medium might move, either in his
natural condition, or with his muscular strength excited by hypnotism.
Assuming a state of hypnotism to be induced in the spectators, the ex-
planation would be easy, and, in fact, identical with many of the scien-
tifically recorded experiments of Binet and Fere. And it is remarkable
that the preliminary conditions of the seance, such as darkened rooms,
clasped hands, and strained attention, are identical with those employed,
from Mesmer downwards, in producing real hypnotism.
112 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
At the same time, it would seem that the hypnotism (if it be so) intro-
duced at seances differs from ordinary hypnotism. The subjects retain the
fullest convictions that they have been wide-awake all the time, and in
full possession of their ordinary senses. Can there be a state of semi-
hypnotism in which the brain, while retaining its full consciousness, is
rendered susceptible to suggested hallucinations? If so, the whole
matter is explained. If not, it is very singular that the same preliminary
operations which produce hypnotism, where hypnotism is expected,
should make chairs and tables dance, and bodies float in the air, where
that is what the spectators expect to see. But the problem could easily
be solved so far as the medium is concerned, by connecting him with an
electric current, which would be broken and ring a bell if he moved hand
or foot, and seeing whether, under such circumstances, the furniture
could be moved.
It is singular that the men of really scientific attainments who profess
a belief in spiritualism, such as Professor Crookes and Mr. Wallace, do
not seem to have proceeded in this way of accurate experiment pursued
by the French school of Salpetriere, even as regards the first rudimentary
alleged facts of moving heavy bodies at a distance without apparent con-
tact Nor do they seem to have thoroughly studied and mastered the
resources of legerdemain, which are obviously one of the principal, and
in many cases the sole cause of the so-called spiritualistic manifestations,
and without a knowledge of which no one is really competent to form an
opinion. Indeed, it is questionable whether, when all the more refined
tricks of spiritualistic mediums have been so thoroughly exposed, it is
worth while to seek for any other hypothesis than that of ordinary con-
juring, to account for those mere childish and unmeaning manifestations,
the modus operandi of which has not yet been fully explained.
It is evident, however, from the well-attested experiments of the French
school, that there really is opening up a most interesting field of inquiry
as to the relations of mind to matter under certain exceptional conditions,
and the extent to which illusions may appear as realities under the influ-
ence of excited imagination. Hypnotism, somnambulism, dreams, and
hallucinations are becoming exact sciences ; and researches pursued in
the same manner into the alleged phenomena of spiritualism and thought-
reading, would end either in exposing imposture, or in reducing such
residuum of truth as they may contain, to known laws analogous to those
which prevail in other branches of physiological and psychological inves-
tigation.
In the meantime, I conclude by saying that, so far as we have yet gone,
the whole of what is called "spiritualism " seems to be quite dreadfully
"materialistic." The one fact which comes out with demonstrated cer-
tainty is, that definite ideas are indissolubly connected with definite vibra-
tions of brain-cells ; and that however these vibrations are induced, the
corresponding ideas and perceptions inevitably follow. In the ordinary
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. ^3
course of things these vibrations are induced by what are called realities
acting through the senses, and by the normal action of the brain-cells on
the perceptions thus received and stored up.
But this applies only to about two-thirds of our existence, viz., the
waking state. In sleep and dreams, the vibrations set up are from former
perceptions, photographed on the brain, and grouped together in unreal
and often fantastic pictures. In somnambulism this is carried to a further
point, and we act our dreams. In hypnotism it is carried still farther,
and the vibrations are excited by a foreign will, and by foreign sugges-
tions. In the ultimate state, madness, the hallucinations have become
permanent But what strange questions does it raise when we find that,
in certain abnormal conditions, all that is most intimately connected with
what we call soul, individuality and consciousness, can be annihilated, or
exchanged for those of another person, by the mechanical process of ex-
citing their corresponding brain-motions in another way. What are love
and hate, if a magnet applied to a hypnotized patient can transform one
into the other ? What is personal identity, if the suggestion of a third person
can make an hysterical girl forget it so completely, as to make her talk
of herself as a distant acquaintance " who is not over wise"? What is
the value of the evidence of the senses, if a similar suggestion can make
us see the hat, but not the man who wears it, or dance half the night with
an imaginary partner? Am I "I myself, I," or am I a barrel-organ,
playing " God save the Queen," if the stops are set in the normal fashion,
but the ' ' Marseillaise " if some cunning hand has altered them without
my knowledge ? These are questions which I cannot answer. All that
I can say is, that practically the wisest thing I can do is to keep myself,
as far as possible, in the sphere of normal conditions, and assume its con-
clusions to be real; avoiding, except as a matter for strict scientific investi-
gation, the various abnormal paths which, in one way or other, all con-
verge towards the ultimate end of insanity.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RELIGION OF THE FUTURE. AGNOSTICISM AND
CHRISTIANITY.
PART L
IS Agnosticism reconcilable with Christianity, or are they hopelessly an-
tagonistic? That depends on the definition we give to the two
terms. That of Agnosticism is very simple. It is contained in the sen-
tence of Professor Huxley's, "That we know nothing of what maybe
beyond phenomena," and " that a man shall not say he knows or believes
that which he has no scientific grounds for professing to know or believe."
This is not a positive or aggressive creed, and is reconcilable with any
form of moral, intellectual, or religious belief which is not dogmatic —
i. e., which does not attempt to impose on us some hard-and-fast theory of
the universe, based on attempts to define the indefinable and explain the
unknowable. The definition of Christianity is by no means so simple.
Practical Christianity resolves itself very much, and more and more every
day, into a sincere love and admiration of the life and teaching of Jesus, the
son of the carpenter of Nazareth, as depicted in the narratives which have
come down to us respecting them, mainly in the Synoptic Gospels. This
love and admiration translates itself into a desire to imitate as far as
possible this life and to act upon these precepts; to be good, pure, loving,
charitable, and unselfish even to the death.
With this form of Christianity the Agnostic has no quarrel; on the con-
trary, if he is not dwarfed and stunted in his faculties, if he has a heart to
feel and an imagination to conceive, he recognizes as fully as the most
devout Christian all that is good and beautiful in the true spirit of
Christianity and its author. Nay, more, he will not quarrel with the mass
of humble and simple-minded Christians who show their love and admi-
ration by piling up adjectives until they reach the supreme one of " divine,"
and who, in obedience to the ineradicable instinct of the human mind to
personify abstract ideas and emotions, make Jesus of Nazareth their
Ormuzd, or incarnation of the good principle, and author of all that is
pure, righteous, and lovely in the universe.
But there is another definition of Christianity of a totally different
character — the dogmatic or theological definition, which, commencing
with St Paul and St John, and culminating in the Athanasian Creed, has
114
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 115
been accepted from the early ages of Christianity, almost until the present
day, as the miraculous revelation of the true theory of the universe. It
teaches how a personal God created the universe, how He deals with it
and sustains it, how He formed man in His own image, and what relations
He has with him. It professes to explain mysteries such as the origin of
evil, man's fall and redemption, his life beyond the grave, the conditions
of his salvation, and a variety of other matters which, to ordinary human
perception and human reason, are absolutely and certainly hidden "behind
the veil."
With this definition of Christianity Agnosticism has nothing in com-
mon. It cannot be both true that we know certain things and that we do
not and cannot know anything about them. Theology asserts that we
are quite capable of knowing the truth respecting these mysteries, and
that, in point of fact, we do know it, either by intuition or by historical
evidence. Philosophy traverses the assertion that we know it by intuition;
Science shatters into fragments the scheme assumed to be taught histor-
ically by a miraculous revelation.
To begin with intuition. It rests on Cardinal Newman's celebrated
theory of the "Illative sense," or a complete assent of all the faculties,
which gives a more absolute proof than any that can be attached to proofs
of science, which are only deductions from certain limited faculties, such
as experience and reason. This is very clearly put by Father Dalgairns
in a discussion on "The Uniformity of Laws of Nature" at the Meta-
physical Society. He says: " I believe in God in the same sense in which
I believe in pain and pleasure, in space and time, in right and wrong, in
myself. If I do not know God, then I know nothing whatever. " That
is, the idea of such a being as the God of theology, a personal creator of
the universe, with faculties like, though transcendently like, those of
man, appears to him a necessary postulate, or rather a fundamental
instinct or mould of thought, as universal and imperative as those of space
and time. Now is this so ? It is at once refuted by the fact that it is not
universal and not imperative. The immense majority of mankind, both
now and in all past ages, have had no such intuition. It is the refined
product of an advanced civilization, confined to a few exceptional minds
of high culture, acute intellect, and tender conscience. Even in Christian
countries it is an affair of education and authority, rather than of neces-
sary intuition; and even those who assert most loudly that it is a funda-
mental category of thought, complain that ninety-nine men out of every
hundred in modern England live practically as if there were no God. Not
so with the real categories of thought and perceptions. No man, past or
present, in Monotheistic, Pantheistic, or Polytheistic countries, has ever
lived practically as if there were no such things as space and time, or as if
such primary perceptions as those of pain and pleasure had no real ex-
istence. These have never deceived us; but the instances are innumer-
able in which the "illative sense," the complete, earnest, and conscien-
J10 BhALUN LIGHTS Ub
tious assent of all the faculties, has deceived us, and has led to conclusions
which a wider knowledge has shown to be not only erroneous, but, in
many cases, absurd and noxious.
When closely analyzed, the theological idea of God may be clearly
seen to be an attempt to define the indefinable. The primary idea is
that of a creator. But what is creation ? Making a thing, in the sense
in which alone man makes anything — that is, transforming existing mat-
ter and energy into new forms — we can understand. As we make a
watch or a steam-engine, we can conceive how a Being, with faculties like
our own, but indefinitely magnified, might make a universe out of atoms
and energies, and make it so perfectly that it would go for ever. But
how He could make something out of nothing, which is what creation
really implies, altogether passes our understanding. We have absolutely
no faculties which enable us to form even the remotest conception of
what those atoms and energies really are, how they came there, or what
will become of them.
The more closely we examine, the clearer it will appear that these
theological intuitions are, in effect, nothing but aspirations; or reflections,
like Brocken spectres, of our earnest longings, fears, and hopes on the
back-ground mists of the Unknowable; and that all the attempted defi-
nitions are mere juggles with words which convey no real meaning. We
talk of creation, but when it comes to the point we find that we really
mean transformation, and that of creation, properly speaking, we have no
more idea than the babe unborn. We talk of immortality, but what we
were before we were born, or what we shall be after we die, what soul,
consciousness, personal identity, really are, how they came to be indis-
solubly connected with matter, and what they will be when that union is
dissolved, are mysteries as to which we can only make guesses, like the
Brahmins and Buddhists, whose guess is transmigration, or the Red
Indians, whose guess is a happy hunting-ground beyond the setting
sun.
The greatest philosophers have come to this as the ultimate fact of their
metaphysical reasonings. Descartes says, "that by natural reason we
can make many conjectures about the soul, and have flattering hopes,
but no assurance." Kant confesses that reason can never prove the exist-
ence of a God. Even great theologians, in the midst of their dogmatic
definitions, let drop admissions which show that, at the bottom of their
hearts, they feel their ignorance of the high mysteries of which they talk
so confidently. The Athanasian Creed, the very essence and incarnation
of dogmatism, says " the Father incomprehensible " in the midst of a
long series of articles, every one of which is absolutely devoid of meaning
unless on the assumption that He is comprehensible, and that St Atha-
nasius rightly comprehended him. St. Augustine writes, "God is un-
speakable," and then proceeds, in a long treatise on " Christian Doctrine,"
to speak of Him as if he knew all about His personality, attributes, and
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 117
ways of dealing with the world and man. Even St Paul says, "O the
depths of God ! how unsearchable are His judgments, and how inscruta-
ble are His ways ! "
What more have Huxley and Herbert Spencer ever said ? Only they
have said it deliberately, consistently, and knowing the reason why; while
theologians, admitting the premises, have preferred to act and argue as if
a totally different set of premises were true. The cause is obvious: Reason
failing, they have fallen back on Revelation. They had an assured belief
that an inspired volume, attested by miracles, taught things respecting
these mysteries which otherwise must have remained unknown. Thus
Coleridge, who, of those who have attempted to base Christian theology
on abstract reason, occupies a foremost place, arrives at this conclusion,
that "a Christian philosophy or theology has its own assumptions, rest-
ing on three ultimate facts — namely, the reality of the law of conscience,
the existence of a responsible will as the subject of that law, and, lastly,
the existence of God. The first is a fact of consciousness; the second, of
reason necessarily concluded from the first ; the third, a fact of history
interpreted by both." He clearly sees that any certain knowledge
respecting the existence of God, and the various conclusions deduced
from it by Christian theology (such as the creation of man, his fall and
redemption, the origin of sin and evil, atonement, grace, and predestina-
tion), if a fact at all, is kfact of history — that is, depends on a conviction
that these mysteries were actually revealed as recorded by the Bible, and
that the Bible is an inspired book attested by historical facts; that it con-
tains prophecies which really were fulfilled, and describes miracles which
actually occurred.
This assumption has turned out to be a broken reed. In face of the
discoveries of recent science, no reasonable man doubts that, beautiful
and admirable as the Bible, and especially the New Testament, may be in
many parts, it is not a true, and therefore not a Divine, revelation of the
scheme of the universe. It is not true that the world was created as
described by Genesis; that man is a recent creation made in God's image,
who fell from his high estate by an act of disobedience; or that the course
of things is regulated by a special personal providence, frequently inter-
fering by miracles with the course of evolution and the uniformity of the
laws of nature. The cause of miracles may be considered as out of court
when even enlightened advocates who hold a brief for them, like Dr.
Temple, a Bishop of the Anglican Church, throw it up and declare "that
all the countless varieties of the universe were provided for by an original
impress, and not by special acts of creation modifying what had previously
been made."
Dogmatic theology, therefore, having no solid foundation either in
abstract reason or in historic facts, and being in hopeless conflict with
science, is bound to disappear; and even now, in addressing enlightened
and impartial men, it may be taken as " une quantite negligeable. " This
ii8 'BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
being the case, the barrier which separates Agnosticism from Christianity
is to a great extent removed. The term ' ' Christian Agnostic " is coming
more and more to the front in the thoughts and utterances of enlightened
Christian men. I notice these with pleasure, for it is always more profit-
able to find points of agreement rather than of difference with sincere and
reasonable men. A Professor of Divinity, preaching in the University of
Oxford a short time ago, said: " The field of speculative theology maybe
regarded as almost exhausted: we must be content henceforward to be
Christian Agnostics. " Canon Freemantle, in an article in the Fortnightty
Review, quotes this with approval. In the course of a very able argument
on the changed conditions of theology, he says that "theologians, in de-
fiance of Aristotle's axiom, that you must not expect demonstration from
a rhetorician, have begun with axioms and definitions and proceeded to
demonstrations. They have said or ' proved ' that God is just or good,
God is personal, God is omniscient and omnipotent; and they have used
these phrases, not in a literary, but in a quasi-scientific manner, and have
proceeded to draw strict inferences from them. But, in doing this, they
have not only acted in the way of unwarrantable assumptions; they have
often produced what St. Paul termed the vain janglings of a science
falsely so called; have enslaved the Divine to their own puny conceptions,
and have provoked violent revolt."
This is precisely what Agnostics contend for. They do not deny
that, in the course of evolution, certain feelings and aspirations have
grown up and come to be part of the mental furniture of civilized nations,
which find a poetical expression in the ideas of God and of immortality.
They simply deny that we have, or ever can have, any certain, definite,
and scientific knowledge respecting these mysteries. To take an instance,
that of the pre-existence of the soul before birth. We recognize a certain
poetical truth in Wordsworth's noble ode when he asserts this pre-exist-
ence, and tells us that in infancy
" Trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home."
But we do not accept it as a known or knowable fact. We have abso-
lutely no experience of any consciousness or personal identity before birth,
or as existing otherwise than in association with the matter and energy of
our corporeal body. No more have we of any continuance of that iden-
tity after death. It is "behind the veil," in that great region of the
" Unknowable," where nothing is known, and therefore all things are
possible. Here Agnosticism comes in as a powerful auxiliary to those
emotions and aspirations which constitute what is called "religion."
It is the best of all arguments against Atheism and Materialism, for, if
we cannot prove an affirmative, still less can we prove a negative. No
man who understands what knowledge really means can affirm that any
conception of what may exist in the great Unknowable which compasses
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 119
us about on every side, is impossible. He can only call it impossible
when it conflicts with known facts and laws; but as long as it remains in
the region of poetical imagination or moral emotion he cannot disprove
it, and may even, if he finds consolation or guidance from it, give it a
sort of provisional assent. Thus no Agnostic can deny that, if he had
faculties to see Him, there might be in the Unknowable a Divine spirit or
substratum, bearing some resemblance to what enlightened men under-
stand by the term "God"; that there may be a Divine eye watching his
every thought and recording his every action ; and he will not be acting
unwisely if he endeavors to mould his life as if this were a true supposi-
tion. Only he does not pretend to know this as a dogma or certain truth,
and therefore he does not quarrel with any brother-man who thinks differ-
ently, or who fancies that he has more certain assurance. Christian
morality he recognizes fully, not as taught by the later inventions of
churches and casuists, but as displayed in the life and teachings of Jesus,
the son of the carpenter of Nazareth, as they stand out, when stripped of
their mythical and supernatural attributes, in the narrative of the Gospels.
He looks on these moral precepts as the results of a long process of evo-
lution in the best minds of the best races, and not as arbitrary rules, in-
vented for the first time, and imposed from without by miraculous
teaching ; and he sees in Jesus simply the brightest example and best
model of a large class of the virtues which are most needed to make prac-
tical lif< para, lovely, and of good repute. In this sense may we not all
shake hands in 'cue near future and be "Christian Agnostics" ?
The tide is already running breast-high in this direction. During the
last half-century how many of the foremost men o? ueht and leading have
drifted towards orthodox Christianity, and how many away from it?
Darwin, Herbert Spencer, Huxley, Carlyle, Mill, all the great thinkers
who have influenced the currents of modern thought, are men who had
renounced all belief in the traditional theories of miracles and inspiration,
and who, a few centuries earlier, would have been burned as heretics.
The conversions have been all one way. Darwin, greatest of all, was an
orthodox believer in his early life, and had even contemplated taking
orders before he embarked on his mission of naturalist to the expedition
of the Beagle. In his case no violent impulse or sudden crisis changed
his views ; but the theological mists simply melted away as the sun of
Science rose higher above his horizon. Patiently he worked out his great
work, guided solely by his unswerving allegiance to truth, until his con-
ception of the universe as the product, not of innumerable supernatural
interferences, but of evolution by natural law, became the creed of all
men of all countries who are able to appreciate scientific facts and evi-
dence.
But Darwin and men of scientific training are not the only ones who
have exchanged the old for the new standpoint. Conversions have been
even more remarkable among eminent leaders in literature and philoso-
120 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
phy, who were brought up in the strictest traditions of the old religious
beliefs. In another work ' I have called attention to the fact that, if ever
there were three minds trained under the strongest influences binding
them to typical though different forms of faith in Christian theology, they
are Carlyle, George Eliot, and Renan. Carlyle was a Puritan of the
Puritans, bred in a farm-house, whose inmates might have been Cove-
nanters who fought against Claverhouse at Drumclog; George Eliot was,
in her surroundings and early life, a typical representative of middle-class
English Evangelicalism ; Renan of the simple Catholic piety of Breton
peasants, developed in an ecclesiastical seminary. How came they, all
three, to break away, with a painful wrench, from old ideas and associa-
tions, and become leaders of advanced thought ? How, indeed, except
that they were sincere searchers after truth, and that truth compelled
them ? If the case for miracles and the inspiration of the Bible had been
convincing or even plausible, is it conceivable that Carlyle, George Eliot,
and Renan should have all three rejected it ? Where are the conversions
that can be shown in the opposite direction ? Where the leading minds
which, bred in the doctrine of Darwinism, have abandoned it for the
doctrine of St. Athanasius or of Calvin ? The few eminent men who still
adhere to the old theology, such as Cardinal Newman and Mr. Gladstone,
are all of the old generation which is passing away. Where are their
successors ? Where are the rising naturalists who are to refute Darwin ?
where the young geologists who are to dethrone Lyell? where the Biblical
critics who are to answer Strauss ?
Perhaps the best proof of the irresistible force of the movement is
afforded by the attitude of those who still remain within the pale of the
Church and are among its most distinguished members. Three eminent
Bishops of the Anglican Church preached sermons in Manchester Cathe~
dral, during the meeting of the British Association there in 1887, which
were published in a pamphlet, under the title of The Advance of Science.
They adopt the doctrine of Evolution and the conclusions of modern
science so frankly that Huxley, reviewing them in the Nineteenth Century,
says that "theology, acting under the generous impulse of a sudden
conversion, has given up everything to science, and, indeed, on one
point, has surrendered more than can reasonably be asked." Other
bishops, it is true, denounce this as "an effort to get up a non-miracu-
lous invertebrate Christianity," and assert that " Christianity is essentially
miraculous, and falls to the ground if miracles never happened. " Per-
fectly true of the old theological Christianity; but, if this is the only
Christianity, it is its sentence of death, for it is becoming more and more
plain every day that it is as impossible for sincere and educated men to
believe in Scripture miracles as it is to believe that the sun stood still in
the Valley of Ajalon, or that the world was peopled from pairs of animals
shut up, a few centuries ago, in Noah's Ark.
1 Modem Science and Modern Thought.
OF THE FUTURE. 121
These truths are rapidly passing from the schools into the streets, and
becoming the commonplace possessions of the rank-and-file of thinkers.
Thus, in a lower plane of thought and among the strictest sect of be-
lievers, we find Spurgeon complaining that, whereas " twenty years ago
there was no question of fundamental truth (brethren used to controvert
this or that point; but they were at least agreed that whatever the Script-
ure said should be decisive), now, however, it did not matter what
Scripture said ; it was rather a question of their own inner consciousness. "
And, again, that ' ' the position of sitting on the fence is the popular one.
There are two or three very learned men who are trying to get down on
both sides of the fence at once. "
There is something touching in the spectacle of a man like Spurgeon
thus finding the solid earth giving way and heaving under his feet, and
even the preachers of his own persuasion lapsing into views inconsistent
with his own rigid orthodoxy. But does it never occur to him to ask
himself why the landmarks are thus drifting steadily past him all in one
direction ? Is it a question of inner consciousness and human perversity,
or is it' not rather that a flood-tide of advancing knowledge and allegiance
to truth is really setting in and running with increasing velocity ?
Another significant symptom of the times is that the popular novel of
the day, Robert Elsmere, is a life-history of the conversion of a clergyman
of noble nature and cultivated mind from orthodoxy to a faith which I
have endeavored to explain in these pages and elsewhere as "Agnostic
Christianity," or "Christianity without miracles." The gifted authoress
describes the process by which his belief in miracles is gradually un-
dermined, and, while his love and admiration for the human Jesus comes
out stronger than ever, he feels it impossible to remain in a Church which
demands assent to such dogmas as those of the Logos, the Resurrection
and the Atonement. Accordingly, he resigns his living, and devotes him-
self to a life of active charity in the East-end of London, where he labors
to found a new religion which shall satisfy reason by rejecting revelation,
while it satisfies emotion by dwelling on the lovely character of the
carpenter's son of Nazareth. The hero dies, and the new religion remains
a pious aspiration; but it is a sign of the altered atmosphere of the times
that, instead of being received with a howl of execration, the book is
favorably accepted by so many readers as a true picture of the course of
modern thought, and as presenting an ideal of what may possibly become
the religion of the future. It is a significant symptom of that drift which
is setting in from so many lines of thought, irresistible as that of the stars of
heaven, away from orthodoxy and towards Agnostic Christianity.
CHAPTER VIII.
(Continued.)
PART II.
A SSUMING as I do that some form of liberal and reverent Agnosti-
^Tx cism is certain to supersede old theological and metaphysical
creeds in our conceptions of the universe, it remains to consider how this
will practically affect the machinery and outward form of religion, and,
what is of more importance, the interests of morality.
In stating the results of my reflections on this subject I am far from
wishing to dogmatize, or, like Comte, to build up any positive religion
of the future, which, like his, might be comprehensively summed up as
" Catholicism without Christianity." I know too well that religions, like
other social institutions, are evolved and not manufactured, and that re-
ligious rites and institutions only flourish when they are a spontaneous
growth. Nevertheless, I think the time has come when the intellectual
victory of Agnosticism is so far assured that it behoves thinking men to
begin to consider what practical results are likely to follow from it.
The first question is as to the effect on morals. Those who cling to
old creeds make great use of the argument that religion is the best of
policemen, and that, if faith in a future state of rewards and punishments,
as taught by an inspired Bible, were once shaken, all security for life and
property would be at an end. This, if it were true, would be no argu-
ment, any more than the fact that a nurse may occasionally quiet a
naughty child by the threat of a bogey, would prove the existence of a
black man with horns and a tail in the cupboard. But it is distinctly
untrue. The foundations of morals are fortunately built on solid rock,
and not on shifting sand; they are based on ideas and feelings which, in
the course of the evolution of the human race, have gradually become in-
stinctive in civilized communities, and passed beyond the sphere of
abstract reasonings or speculative criticisms. So far from morality being
a thing altogether apart from human nature, and which owes its obligation
solely to its being a revelation of God's will, it may be truly said in a great
many cases that, as individuals and nations become more sceptical, they be-
come more moral. Thus, for instance, an implicit belief in the inspiration
of the Old Testament perverted the moral sense to such an extent that the
most monstrous cruelties were inflicted in the name of religion. Mur-
122
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 123
ders, adulteries, witchcraft, religious wars and persecutions, all found
their origin and excuse in texts either expressly enjoining them, or show-
ing that they formed part of the character and conduct of men "after
Jehovah's own heart" We no longer burn heretics, torture old women,
or hew captives in pieces before the Lord. Why ? Because we have be-
come sceptical, and no longer believe in the Bible as an infallible record
of God's word. When we find anything in it contrary either to the facts
of science or to the moral instincts of the age in which we live, we quietly
ignore it; and, instead of trying Science and Morality, as our fore-
fathers did, at the bar of Inspiration, we reverse the process and bring
Religion before the bar of Reason.
Is the world better or worse for this latest phase of its evolution ? Is it
more or less tolerant, humane, liberal-minded, charitable, than it was in
the ages of superstitious faith ? The answer is not doubtful, and it con-
firms my position that, as a matter of fact, as we have become more scep-
tical we have become more moral.
1 1 there is one fact more certain than another in the history of evolu-
"101., .t :s ±a* ':»v>r?1s have been evolved by the same laws as regulate the
development of species. They were no more created, or taught super-
naturally, than were the various successive forms of animal and vegetable
life. Take, for instance, the simplest case — the abhorrence of murder.
It is not an implanted and universal instinct, for even at the present day we
find sections of the human race among whom murder is honorable. The
Dyak maiden scorns a lover who has not taken a head; the Indian squaw
tests a suitor's manhood by the number of scalps in his wigwam, and the
more they were taken by stratagem and treachery the more honorable are
they esteemed. The priest and prophet of ancient Israel considered it an
act of duty towards Jehovah to hew Agag to pieces before the Lord; and
Jael was famous among Hebrew women because she drove a nail into the
head of the sleeping refugee who had sought shelter within her tent.
David, the man after God's own heart, committed the most treacherous
and cold-blooded murder in order to screen a foul act of adultery. Where
in those cases was either the implanted instinct or the recognition of a
divine precept commanding " Thou shalt do no murder " ? Millions of
Brahmins and Buddhists, who never heard of Moses or of the command-
ments inscribed on the table of stone at Sinai, have carried the abhorrence
of murder to such an extreme as to shrink from destroying even the hum-
blest form of animal life, while millions of savages have killed and eaten
strangers and captives without scruple or remorse.
Evidently moral ideas are, like other products of evolution, the result
of the interaction of the two factors, heredity and environment, deter-
mined in the course of ages by natural selection. They may be seen in
the simplest form in the instinct of all social animals, from ants and bees
up to man, which makes them abstain from injuring those of the same
nest or herd, and prompts them to act together for the common good,
124 -BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Those who had this instinct strongest would be most likely to survive in
the struggle for existence, and each successive generation would tend to
fix the instinct more strongly by heredity. What is instinct? In the last
analysis it is motion, or tendency to motion, of certain nerve-cells, which
have become so fixed, by frequent practice or by heredity, that they be-
come unconscious, and follow necessarily on impulses from without, as
in the act of breathing or swallowing. The simpler instincts, as in the
case of animals, are the most spontaneous and inevitable. The duckling
swims, to the alarm of the mother hen, because it is the descendant of
generations of ducks which have taken to the water as their natural ele-
ment The sight of water sets up certain motions in the duckling's brain
which, by reflex action, impel it to swim.
But, in higher organizations and more complicated instincts, what is
inherited is not so much absolute motion as tendency to motion. The
almost infinitely complex molecules of the higher brain do not move
mechanically, so as to produce a definite result from a definite impulse,
but they move more readily in certain directions than in others, those
directions being determined partly by the ancestral channels in which
they have run for generations, and partly by the action of the surround-
ing environment. Thus it may be accepted as certain that a child born
and educated in England in the nineteenth century will, as a rule, grow
up with an instinctive abhorrence of murder; but it is not so certain as
that it will breathe and eat. A very violent outward impulse, such as
greed or revenge, may overcome the instinct; and if the child had been
kidnapped in infancy and brought up among Dyaks or Indians, its notions
would probably have been the same as theirs as to the taking of heads or
scalps. But, speaking generally of modern civilized societies, there is
such an enormous preponderance in favor of the fundamental rules of
morality, that with each successive generation the results both of heredity
and environment tend more and more to make them instinctive. The
lines which Tennyson, the great poet of modern thought, puts into the lips
of his Goddess of Wisdom —
" And because right is right, to follow right
Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence "
are becoming more and more every day the instinct, not of higher minds
only, but of the mass of the community.
Such a foundation for morals is clearly both more certain and more
comprehensive than one based on doubtful revelations. It is more cer-
tain, for it does not depend on evidence which, with the progress of
science, is fast becoming incredible. The command not to murder is not
weakened by proof that the book of unknown origin and date which con-
tains it, gives a totally erroneous account of the creation, and is therefore
not inspired; nor does adultery cease to be a crime because the narrative
of Noah's deluge is shown to be fabulous. It is also more comprehensive,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 125
for no hard-and-fast written code can long conform to the conditions of
an ever-varying society. It will err both by enjoining things which have
become obsolete, and by omitting others which have become imperative.
Thus the Mosaic code classes sculptors with murderers and thieves, and
makes Canova and Thorwaldsen as great offenders against Divine com-
mands as the last criminal who was convicted at the Old Bailey. On the
other hand, there is no injunction against slavery or polygamy, but, on
the contrary, an implied sanction of them, from the example of the
patriarchs who are held up as patterns of holiness. The feeling against
slavery is a conspicuous instance of the development of a moral instinct in
quite recent times. It is the result of advancing civilization leading to
more humane ideas, and to a clearer recognition of the intrinsic sacredness
and dignity of every human soul.
In like manner, a multitude of moral ideas have come to be part of
our mental furniture which had no place in the early code of the Jews, or
even in the more advanced period of early Christianity. The Christian
ideal, to a great extent, ignored courage, hardihood, self-reliance, fore-
sight, providence, and all the sterner and harder qualities that make the
man, for the softer and more feminine virtues of love, patience, and resig-
nation. The aesthetic side of life also, the recognition and love of all
that is beautiful in art and nature, was not only ignored, but to a great
extent condemned by it, owing to an exaggerated and one-sided antithesis
between the flesh and the spirit.
Among the modern ideas which are fast becoming moral instincts is
that of the duty of following truth for its own sake. Doubt is no longer
regarded as a crime, but as a duty, when there are real grounds for
doubting. We may parody the words of the poet and say —
" And because truth is truth, to follow truth
Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence."
And this allegiance to truth carries with it the virtue of sincerity. A
man must not palter with his convictions, and profess to hold one set of
opinions because they are expedient, while he holds others because they
are true. If it be a fact that the human race has risen by evolution
through long ages from palaeolithic savagery, he has no right to admit the
fact and at the same time profess to believe that he is a fallen creature de-
scended from the Biblical Adam. His duty is to use his reason to ascer-
tain which statement is true, and, having done so, to the best of his
ability and without bias or prejudice, to cleave with his whole heart to the
truth, and not remain a miserable, half-hearted Mr. Facing-both-ways.
So far, therefore, as morality is concerned, we need not much concern
ourselves about the future of religion. Morality can take care of itself,
and, with or without theological creeds, it will go on strengthening,
widening, and purifying its instinctive holds on the character and conduct
of civilized communities. As regards conduct, which is, after all, the
126 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
practical test of the goodness or badness of theoretical opinions, a system
which can produce a life like that of Darwin is good enough for anything.
Conduct is, fortunately, not dependent on creeds, and good men and
women can be found plentifully among all classes of belief, from Ortho-
doxy to Agnosticism. But it cannot, I think, be denied that the leaders
of scientific thought, such as Darwin, Herbert Spencer, Lyell, Huxley,
and other honored names, have led, on the whole, simple, noble lives,
and present characters worthy of imitation. Nor is there any reason to
believe that the vast and increasing number of the rank-and-file, who have
more or less adopted the views of these great leaders, are in any respect
below the average type, or lead worse lives than those who walk in the
narrower paths of pre-scientific traditions.
Thus far the Religion of the Future has been comparatively plain sail-
ing. Intellectually, it is clear that evolution has become the mould of
thought, and that the lines of Agnostic Christianity and of Agnosticism
pure and simple, but recognizing Christianity as one of the forces of evo-
lution, have converged so closely that the difference between them is
almost reduced to a name. What Herbert Spencer calls the infinite,
eternal energy, which underlies all phenomena, and of whose existence
we feel certain, though we can never know or define it, Bishop Temple
calls "God." Accurate thinkers may prefer the former definition, for
the term "God" has come to be associated with a number of anthropo-
morphic and other ideas, which imply knowledge of the unknowable ;
but practically the bishop and the philosopher mean much the same thing,
and the converging lines of science and religion approach so nearly that
they may be said to coincide. Morally, it is equally clear that there is
nothing to fear from such a view of religion, and that the moral instincts
are based on something much more permanent and certain than intellect-
ual conceptions or antiquated traditions. But when we come to practical
religion there is a great deal comprised in the word which it is not so easy
to dispose of.
In the recent controversy between Herbert Spencer and Frederic Harri-
son the latter reproached the former with offering to the world the mere
ghost of a religion. Religion, he says, must be something positive; it
must have a " creed, doctrines, temples, priests, teachers, rites, morality,
beauty, hope, consolation; " and these, he adds, can be found only in a
religion which is intensely anthropomorphic. ' ' You can have no religion
without kinship, sympathy, relation of some human kind between the be-
liever, worshipper, servants, and the object of his belief, veneration, and
service. "
As Mr. Harrison not only admits, but asserts strongly, that science has
has upset all existing anthropomorphic creeds and theories, his logical
conclusion apparently ought to be that there can be no more any religion.
But he escapes from his dilemma by offering us a new religion — Positivism,
or the religion according to Comte. For the dethroned Deity of the
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 127
Christians, who has been, by the confession of his own theologians, ' ' defe-
cated to a pure transparency," we are to substitute " Humanity," the
symbol of the new Divinity being a woman of the age of thirty, with her
son in her arms; and Christian worship is to be replaced by an elaborate
series of rites and ceremonies, evolved from the inner consciousness of the
French philosopher, and which, to the apprehension of an ordinary ob-
server, are for the most part puerile and ridiculous. Thus among the
Positivist saints, who are to be canonized in order of merit, Gall, who, in
conjunction with Spurzheim, wrote an absolute book on phrenology, gets
a week, while Kepler gets only a day; Tasso is assumed to be a seven
times greater poet than Goethe, and Mozart a seven times greater musician
than Beethoven; while in politics Louis XL, the crafty and sinister French
king, depicted by Walter Scott in Quentin Durward, is to be worshipped
as a seven times greater saint than Washington. Of the only two new
forms of positive religion which has been started in my recollection, Posi-
tivism and Mormonism, I may be excused if, barring the plurality of
wives, I give the preference to the latter, which has, at any rate, proved
its vitality by laying hold, not without a certain amount of success, of
colonization, temperance, and other problems of practical life. Herbert
Spencer had little difficulty in answering this attack. He showed that his
definition of the " Unknowable " was very different from the mere nega-
tion, or algebraical symbol, which Harrison assumed it to be, and that it
was distinctly the assertion of something positive and actually existing,
though beyond our faculties. In fact, it is very much the same as Words-
worth's
" Sense sublime,
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round earth, and in the mind of man."
And if such a feeling can inspire noble poetry, why not a noble re-
ligion ? The retort was obvious, that, if the Unknowable were too re-
fined an idea on which to base a religion, at any rate it was better than
Humanity; for the first is based on a fact, while the second has no foun-
dation but a phrase.
It is an undoubted fact that, when we trace phenomena back to their
source, we arrive at a substratum, or first cause, which we cannot under-
stand, or even form any conception of. But what is Humanity ? It is
but a convenient expression, like gravity or electricity, by which we sum
up a number of separate, individual facts, which have certain attributes in
common. The only thing real about gravity is, that individual bodies
attract one another directly as the mass and inversely as the square of the
distance. Annihilate the individual masses, and you cannot anthropo-
morphize the law of gravity; for instance, following the example of
Comte, under the symbol of a heavy woman with a fat child. No more
can you individualize and anthropomorphize " Humanity," apart from
I2g BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
the individual human beings, good, bad, and indifferent, of whom the
aggregate has been, is, and will be composed. " Parturiunt Mantes" -
the mountains labor to produce a new religion; and the result of Posi-
tivism is to make a fetish of a phrase.
At the same time it must be admitted that, while Positivism is no
more likely than Mormonism to become the world's religion of the future,
the new creed to which we are tending, whether we call it Agnostic
Christianity or Christian Agnosticism, places in jeopardy a great deal of
what has hitherto been included under the word religion. Mr. Harrison's
definition is not an unfair one, that the term includes "creed, doctrines,
temples, priests, teachers, rites, morality, beauty, hope, consolation."
Of these, the four last may be called spiritual, and the six first practical
elements of religion. As regards the spiritual elements, they will remain
unaffected, and, in some cases, will be strengthened. Morality, as we
have seen, depends on rules of conduct, which have, to a great extent,
become instinctive; and it would be strengthened, rather than impaired,
by getting rid of the Calvinistic conceptions of a cruel and capricious
Deity, condemning untold millions to eternal punishment for the offence
of a remote ancestor, and only partially appeased by the sacrifice of his
only son. Beauty, again, would certainly gain by getting rid of the idea
that all pleasant things are of the domain of the flesh and the devil, and
substituting an enlightened sestheticism for a narrow and sordid asceti-
cism. Hope would, as at present, find its field in the possibilities which
lie behind the veil, and time, the one great consoler of human sorrows,
would still exert its beneficent influence to assuage the poignancy of
recent afflictions.
But what will become of the " creed, doctrines, temples, priests,
teachers, and rites," which constitute what may be called the machinery
or practical side of existing religions ? Is the creed the keystone of the
fabric, and will it crumble to pieces if this creed ceases to be credible ?
In other words, if the creeds of Christian Churches, instead of being defi-
nite doctrines, as embodied in the Thirty-nine Articles, or the dicta of
infallible Popes and Councils, are sublimated into such vague and remote
conceptions as enable Huxley to say that the three bishops have conceded
all he asks, and Mivart to remain a good Catholic while admitting all
the most advanced conclusions of Darwinian science and of Biblical criti-
cisms, can sincere men become Christian priests and officiate in Christian
churches ?
I judge no one, and can appreciate the reasons which may induce en-
lightened and excellent men to cleave to old creeds and remain in posi-
tions when they feel that they are doing good, as long as it is possible for
them to allegorize or explain away accepted doctrines, without feeling
that they are consciously insincere. But I confess that it is not easy to
understand how this can go even the length it has, and, still more, how
it can go further and become general, without degenerating into hypocrisy
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 129
and insincerity. Take, for instance, the Apostles' Creed, which, I sup-
pose, contains the minimum of doctrine that is generally considered con-
sistent with a profession of Christianity. I can understand how, by an
allowable latitude of construction, a Broad Church divine may adopt the
first Article and confess a belief in God. But when we come to the sub-
sequent, more precise and definite Articles, which profess a belief in the
miraculous conception, birth, and resurrection of Jesus, the carpenter's
son of Nazareth, I fail to see how any one can subscribe to them who be-
lieves in the permanence of Natural Law and the Darwinian theory of
Evolution. Even in the form of Bishop Temple's theory of original im-
press, as opposed to special acts of supernatural interference, it must be
admitted that miracles, if not impossible, are in the highest degree
improbable, and that it would require an immense amount of the clearest
possible evidence to admit occurrences which are so entirely opposed to
all we know of the real facts of the universe, and which, in so many cases,
have been shown to be mere delusions of the imaginations. And the
slightest acquaintance with Biblical criticism is sufficient to show how
weak the evidence really is, and how utterly unfounded the claims of the
various books of the Old and New Testament to anything like Divine in-
spiration. But, if the creeds go, what become of the priests, and, without
priests, where are the churches, rites, and ceremonies? And, if these
disappear, what an immense gap does it make in the whole framework of
existing society ! Consider the priests, including in the word all ministers
of all denominations. It is easy to denounce priestcraft, and to show by a
thousand examples that wherever priests have had power they have done
infinite mischief. They have too often been cruel persecutors and nar-
row-minded bigots ; and, even at the best, have been opposed to freedom
of thought and progress. But, for all this, the question has another side,
and there is a good deal to be said for the existence of a special class, set
aside from the ordinary pursuits of life, for spiritual instruction and works
of mercy and charity.
In countries like England, where priests have long since ceased to
possess any temporal power, and where they live — more and more every
day — in an atmosphere of free and liberal thought, there can be no doubt
that they are, as a class, much better than they were in former ages. Few
exercise an influence actively injurious, many are respectable and harmless,
and a considerable number set a good example of virtuous lives, and de-
vote themselves to the promotion of works of charity and benevolence.
They have, no doubt, to a considerable extent, lost touch with the masses
of population in large towns and industrial centres; and where they have
preserved it, chiefly among dissenting congregations, it is too often exerted
toward narrowness of views and sectarian prejudices. Still, on the whole,
it is exerted for good; and in many rural parishes and poor districts, like
the East-end of London, the priest is a powerful factor in organizing char-
ities, visiting the sick, rescuing the fallen, and giving consolation to the
I3o BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
suffering. To take an extreme case, what would a poor parish in the
West of Ireland be without its priest ? He is the sole centre of civiliza-
tion in a district of perhaps, twenty square miles; he is not only the spirit-
ual guide of his flock, but, to a great extent, their Education Board and
Poor- Law Guardian; he is their friend and adviser in all their difficulties,
and, in case of need, their ' ' Village Hampden, " who fights their battles
with tyrannical landlords, and negotiates the compromises by which they
are enabled to retain their humble roofs over their heads. He is worth
all the magistrates and policemen put together in repressing crime and
preventing outrages. It will be long before a population like that of rural
Ireland can dispense with priests.
Again, priests and churches go together; and although church services
have to a great extent become a repetition of formulas, and sermons an
anachronism, still there is a good deal in institutions which bring people
together on one day in the week, cleanly in dress and decorous in be-
havior, to join in services and listen to discourses which appeal, however
faintly and drearily, to higher things than those of ordinary prosaic life.
Especially to the female half of the population attendance at church or
chapel is, in many cases, a great pleasure, and, if it were only to see and
be seen and criticise one another's bonnets, it is a relief from the monot-
ony of life, gives them topics of interest, and promotes a feeling of decency
and respectability. Those, therefore, who hold larger views, and feel
that they cannot without insincerity subscribe to creeds which to them have
become incredible, would do well to be liberal and tolerant towards tradi-
tional opinions and traditional practices, and trust with cheerful faith to
evolution to bring about gradually such changes of form as may be re-
quired to embody changes of spirit.
In the meantime, the course of those who worship Truth above all
other considerations is plain. There are abundance of duties clear enough
for men of all creeds: the difficulty is to live up to them. But for those
who hold the larger views the first duty is to be doubly careful as to con-
duct. It would be too great a scandal if the larger creed were made the
excuse for a looser life. Those who are Darwinians in theory ought to try
to be like Darwin in practice: like him, high-minded, modest, gentle,
patient, honorable in all relations of life, loving and beloved by friends
and family. This, at least, is within the reach of every one, high or low,
rich or poor, if not to attain to, at any rate to aim at, as an ideal. Nor
do I think that Freethinkers will be wanting in this passive side of con-
duct. On the contrary, as far as my experience has gone, while more
liberal and large-minded, they lead lives quite as good, on the average, as
those which are more directly under the traditional influences of religion.
But what the Agnostic must beware of is, not to be content with the pas-
sive side of virtue, but to cultivate also its active side, and not let himself be
surpassed in works of charity and benevolence by those whose intellectual
creeds are narrower than his own. There is no doubt that the evangelical
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 131
faith in Jesus has been and is a powerful incentive with men like Lord
Shaftesbury, General Gordon, Dr. Barnardo. and thousands of other de-
voted men and women who fight in the foremost ranks against sin and
misery. With such as these all men can sympathize; and a more intel-
lectual creed ought to be no obstacle in giving aid and co-operation, but
rather an incentive to show that a belief in the truths of science is not in-
consistent with active charity and benevolence.
Another point which Agnostics would do well to attend to is to culti-
vate a love of Nature and Art, so as to keep alive the imaginative and
emotional faculties which might wither in the too exclusive atmosphere of
pure reason. A prosaic life is a dwarfed and stunted life, which has been
more than half a failure ; and, as old dogmatic religions fail to supply
the spiritual stimulus, it is the more necessary to find it in the wonders
of the universe, the beauties of nature, and in communion with great
minds through music, painting, and books. These are now brought to
a great extent within the reach of every one, and there is no more hope-
ful symptom of the times than to find that really good books by great
authors, when brought out in cheap editions, circulate by the millions.
Shilling and even sixpenny editions of Shakespeare, Scott, Carlyle, and
other standard authors, are continually brought out, and must be sold in
tens of thousands to make them a paying speculation. Who buys them ?
Certainly not the upper classes, who, in former days, were the only buy-
ers of books, They must circulate widely among the masses, and espe-
cially among the more thoughtful members of the working-classes, and
the rising generation of all classes who are earnestly seeking to improve
their minds and widen their range of sympathies and culture. To read
good books rather than silly novels is a practical measure within the
reach of every one, and it is supplying, more and more every day, a larger
and more liberal education than was ever afforded by theological contro-
versies and conventional sermons.
Another hopeful symptom is to see the growing demand among the
working-classes for schools, libraries, museums, music-halls, excursion
trains, and all manner of clubs and societies for mutual help, instruction,
and amusement. These are the plastic cells multiplying and forming new
combinations, out of which, in due time, will be envolved the " priests
and temples, the rites 'and ceremonies," and other institutions requisite to
give life and form to the demonstrated truth of the "great Unknowable,"
and leave the magnificent conception of Darwin and Herbert Spencer no
longer the ghost of a religion, but the foundation of a rational, lovable,
and, on the whole, happy existence, useful and honorable while its little
span of life lasts, and looking forward with hope and manly for*itude to
whatever may await it behind that veil which no mortal hand has ever
lifted
CHAPTER VIII.
(Continued.}
PART III.
r~T*HE philosophy which I have found work best, both in reconciling
A intellectual difficulties and as a guide in practical life, is that which
I have described elsewhere1 at some length as " Zoroastrianism," or " Po-
larity." It amounts to this, that the infinite, eternal, and inconceivable
essence of all phenomena, which theologians call God, and philosophers
the Unknowable, manifests itself to human apprehension under conditions
or categories which are equally certain and equally incomprehensible.
We know that it is so, or so appears to us; but we do not know why.
Thus Space and Time are fundamental moulds of thought, or, to use the
phraseology of Kant, imperative categories. Another of such categories
is that of Polarity: no action without reaction, no positive without a neg-
ative, no good without evil. In the physical world this is a demon-
strated fact. Matter is made of molecules; molecules are made of atoms;
atoms are little magnets which link themselves together and form all the
complex creations of an ordered cosmos, by virtue of the attractive and
repulsive forces which are the results of polarity. Ordered and regular
motion also — whether it be of planets round suns, of an oscillating pen-
dulum, or of waves of water, air, or ether, vibrating in rhythmic succes-
sion— is a result of the conflict between energy of motion and energy of
position.
As Emerson well says in his Essay on Compensation : " Polarity, or
action and reaction, we meet in every part of nature: in darkness and
light; in heat and cold; in the ebb and flow of waters; in male and female;
in the inspiration and expiration of plants and animals; in the undulations
of fluids and of sound; in the centrifugal and centripetal gravity; in elec-
tricity, galvanism, and chemical affinity. Superinduce magnetism at one
end of a needle, the opposite magnetism takes place at the other end. If
the South attracts, the North repels. To empty here you must condense
there. An inevitable dualism besets nature, so that each thing is a half,
and suggests another to make it whole : as spirit, matter ; man, woman;
odd, even; subjective, objective; in, out; upper, under; motion, rest;
yea, nay." This principle, applied to the higher problems of religion and
philosophy, leads to results singularly like those which, if we may believe
1A Modern Zoroastrian,
132
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 133
the sacred books of the Parsees, were taught 3000 years ago by the ancient
Bactrian sage, Zoroaster. His religion was one of pure reason. He dis-
claimed all pretension to found it on miracles, or to define the indefinable
by dogmas; but, taking natural laws and human knowledge as his basis,
he asserted, in the indentical words used by Emerson thirty centuries later,
that an "inevitable dualism besets nature," and embodied the two con-
flicting principles under the names of Ormuzd and Ahriman. To Ormuzd
belong all things that are bright, beautiful, pure, lovely, and of good re-
pute, both in the material and moral universe; to Ahriman all that is foul,
ugly, and evil. Apart from certain archaisms of expression and ritual
observances which have become obsolete, the Zendavesta might have been
compiled to-day from the writings of Herbert Spencer and Huxley. This
conception of the universe has this enormous advantage over all those
\rhich rest on the idea of an anthropomorphic Creator — that it does not
make religion a means of perverting the fundamental instincts of morality,
by making an Omnipotent Creator the conscious author of evil. This is
a dilemma from which no anthropomorphic form of religion can escape:
either its God is not omnipotent, or He is not benevolent. Sins and suf-
fering areyac/r, as much as virtue and happiness; and if the good half
of creation argues for a good Creator, it is an irresistible inference that
the bad half argues for one who is evil.
Theologians, in attempting to escape from this dilemma, have been
»nly too apt to confuse the instincts of morality, by arguing that actions
which would be cruel, unjust, and even devilish, in the case of a human
despot, become merciful and righteous if done by an Almighty Ruler in
Heaven. Such a dogma is, to all intents and purposes, devil-worship,
and degrades man into a slave crouching under the lash of a harsh master.
How infinitely superior was the ideal of the old Roman poet of the
"justum et tenacem propositi virum" ; the upright and firm-minded man.
whom no threats of a frenzied mob or raging tyrant could shake from his
purpose, or induce to palter with his convictions; nay, not even though
the earth and sky fell in ruins about his head, could the convulsion of
nature daunt his steadfast soul.
" Victrix causa Deis placuit sed victa Cat out."
Bnt with a Polar theory of existence, the difficulty is relegated to the
realm of the unknown, and instead of sinking with Cowper into the
despairing depths of religious madness, we may hold with Wordsworth —
" The cheerful faith that all which we behold
Is fall of blessings."
A serene and cheerful faith is, of itself, one of the greatest blessings, and
it is specially needed in an age in which so many gospels of pessimism are
abroad, and so many failures in the struggle for existence tell us that
society is a sham, civilization an imposture and life a mistake.
I34 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Another advantage of this Polar theory of the universe is that it teaches
us to take a large and tolerant view of men and of events. The true
charity which " suffereth long and is kind " is scarcely compatible with
a bigoted and one-sided adherence to a particular set of opinions.
Whether in politics or in religion, if we believe that all those who difter
from us have a double dose of original sin, we can scarcely comprehend
or love them. Good natures may pity them, bad natures hate them,
conscientious natures feel it a duty to stamp them out ; but we can never
really feel towards them as brothers and sisters, who have gone ' ' a ken-
ning wrang, " and been drawn a little too far by the attraction of the op-
posite polarity to that under the influence of which we ourselves live and
have our being. Thus, in politics, the cosmos of an ordered society can
only be maintained, as in the orbit of a planet, by a due balance between
the centripetal and centrifugal forces. If we were all Conservatives,
society would condense into a sluggish and inert mass ; if all Radicals, it
would be apt to fly off into space. Evolution will surely bring about in
their appropriate time the results which are fittest to survive. Why
quarrel, then, and entertain hard and bitter thoughts, because our own
individual atom is acting in one direction, while that of our neighbor is
acting in another ? Act strenuously in that direction which, after con-
scientious inquiry, seems to be the best; do the duty which lies most
nearly and plainly to our hands; and trust to what religious men call
Providence, and scientific men Evolution, for the result.
A large-minded and large-hearted creed is the more needful, as the
weak part in the otherwise admirable British nature is a tendency to that
peculiar form of narrowness which is commonly called Philistinism.
Why the Philistine, or dweller in the land of palms on the border of the
Mediterranean, should have been taken as the type of straight-laced and
narrow-minded conventionality, is hard to see. But the fact is there,
and the word expresses it; and it is beyond doubt that there is a great
deal of truth in Matthew Arnold's indignant diatribes, and that the average
well-meaning and respectable citizen in apt to be an awful Philistine. It
is not confined to classes; in fact, there is probably more of it in the
upper and middle classes than among workmen. But whether it be the
cut of a coat, or of a creed, and whether going to a court or to a chapel,
the essence of the thing is the same — viz., that some class or coterie
fences itself in behind some narrow conventionality, and ignores the great
outer world. If the pale be one of fashion, those not within it are out-
siders, cads, commoners; if of religion, they are sons of perdition. To
the narrow-minded Tory all Irish are dynamiters, all Radicals rebels, and
Gladstone is Antichrist. To the narrow-minded Radical all landlords are
robbers and all parsons hypocrites. Socialists seek to regenerate society
by abolishing capital; capitalists to save it by ignoring that property has
duties as well as rights. It is all Philistinism, and incapacity to see that
there are two sides to every question, and that one thing only is certain,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 135
that falsehood lies in extremes. Half the difficulties which perplex us
would disappear if we could enlarge our minds, so as, in the words of
Burns —
**To see ourselves as others see us; *
and to act on the precept of the wise old Rabbi Hillel, now 1900 years
old: " Never to judge another man till you have stood in his shoes."
Another advantage of this Polar philosophy is that it enables us more
readily to assimilate with those who hold different forms of belief. What
matters it whether the Parsee embodies his good principle in an Ormuzd,
the Christian in a Jesus, the Stoic in a Marcus Aurelius, or the philoso-
pher finds no need for any personification at all ? The essential thing is
that they are all soldiers fighting together in the cause of goodness and
light, against evil and darkness. Practically, a great many modern
Christians are Zoroastrians, with Jesus for their Ormuzd. They care
little for dogmas, except as exalting the character of the object of their
veneration, and giving expression to their transcendental love and adora-
tion for his person and character. Listen to the simple preaching of the
Salvation Army, and you will find how exclusively it turns upon the one
element of the love of Jesus. You would never discover that Christianity
had been identified with mysterious dogmas and metaphysical puzzles,
and that salvation depended on holding the Catholic faith as defined by
St. Athanasius. But sinners are exhorted to give up drink and evil ways
for the love of the dear Redeemer who died for them; and if this touches
simple natures, and if calling themselves soldiers, marching in ranks, and
beating drums, aid in the work, why should any one object to it? We
are nearer to these simple souls than we are to the divines who beat the
drum ecclesiastic, and tell us from pulpits, that, unless we believe all the
articles of the Catholic faith without doubt we shall perish everlastingly.
To sum up, the duty of a man of the nineteenth century is clear. He
has to follow truth at all hazards. Questions of the highest importance
have been raised, which he cannot shirk without narrowing his whole na-
ture, and shutting himself up in an ever- contracting circle of ignorance and
prejudice. There are two theories of the universe and two of man, which
are in direct conflict. Of the universe, one, the theological, that it was
created and is upheld by miracles — that is, by a succession of secondary
supernatural interferences by a Being who is a magnified man, acting from
motives and with an intelligence which, however transcendental, are
essentially human; the other, the scientific, that is the result of original
impress, or of evolution acting by natural laws on a basis of the Unknow-
able. In like manner, of man, one theory, the theological, is that he is
descended from the Biblical Adam, created quite recently in a state of
high moral perfection, from which he fell by an act of disobedience en-
tailing on his descendants the curse of sin and death, from which a por-
tion were redeemed by the sacrifice of the Creator's own son, incarnate in
I36 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Jesus of Nazareth; the other, the scientific theory, that man is a product
of Evolution from palaeolithic ancestors, who lived for innumerable ages
in a state of savagery, but always gradually progressing upwards in art»
and civilization.
Both theories cannot be true; they are in direct contradiction upon
fundamental facts, which are a question of evidence. The evidence for
the theological theory is based entirely on the assumption that the Bible
is an inspired record of Divine truth, attested by miracles. The scientific
theory rests on the evidence of a vast and ever-accumulating mass of facts,
which admit of no doubt or contradiction. It seems to me that an un-
learned man need not go farther than to contrast the theories of man's de-
scent. Let him go to the British Museum and look at the implements of
flint and bone which have been found in conjunction with remains of
extinct animals, in caves and river gravels of immense antiquity. How
can the theological theory hold water, unless it could be proved that these,
and the hundreds of thousands of similar human remains, including skulls
and skeletons, which have been discovered in similar deposits over the
four quarters of the earth, were placed there by a conspiracy of scientific
men, who wished to discredit the Bible ? Even the Duke of Argyll, who
has conspiracy on the brain, would hardly contend for such a conclusion,
or maintain that the narrative of Noah's deluge gives a true account of
the manner in which animal life has been diffused over the different zoolog-
ical provinces in which it is actually divided.
The more he extends his researches and enlarges his knowledge, the
more will every honest and conscientious inquirer find that the scientific
theory is victorious along the whole line. If he is a lover of truth,
therefore, he will find himself constrained to adopt the larger creed. But,
in doing so, let him show that it is not merely a speculative creed or in-
tellectual deduction ; but that the larger creed leads to a larger life ; that
it makes him more liberal and tolerant, more pure and upright, more
loving and unselfish, more strenuous, as becomes a soldier fighting in the
foremost ranks in the campaign against sin and misery ; so that, when
the last day comes which comes to all, it may be recorded of him that his
individual atom of existence left the world, on the whole, a little better,
rather than a little worse, than he found it
CHAPTER IX.
THE HISTORICAL ELEMENT IN THE GOSPELS
PROFESSOR Huxley in a recent article in the Nineteenth Century
refers to the great difficulty he has felt in his efforts to define "the
grand figure of Jesus as it lies in the primary strata of Christian literature.
What did he really say and do ? and how much that is attributed to him
in speech and action is the embroidery of the various parties into which
his followers tended to split themselves within twenty years after his
death, when even the threefold tradition was only nascent?"
I have felt the same difficulty myself, and after reading a mass of
critical literature, both English and German, I must confess to having
found myself more than ever perplexed. In English Biblical criticism the
tone is almost invariably that of advocate rather than of judges. The
opponents of Orthodoxy insist too much on finding arguments against
inspiration in every text, while its supporters are almost invariably guilty
of the fallacy which is known to logicians as the petitio principii, and begin
by assuming the very points which they profess to prove. Thus Dr.
Wace, in his reply to Huxley, starts with the assumption that the Sermon
on the Mount and the Lord's Prayer prove the divinity of Jesus and the
inspiration of the Gospels; and this being proved, it follows that we must
believe everything we find recorded in these Gospels as true, down even
to the miracle of the Gadarene swine, under pain of making Jesus out to
be a liar. Of course we must, if we admit the theory of divine inspiration,
but this is the very point to be proved. How does Dr. Wace attempt to
prove it ? By lengthened arguments to show that the omission of all
mention of the Sermon on the Mount and Lord's Prayer by Mark is not a
fatal objection; that the Synoptic Gospels, or parts of them, were probably
written not later than from 70 to 75 A.D., and other doubtful points of
really very little importance. But he totally ignores what is the real
difficulty in the way of accepting his fundamental axiom that the Sermon
on the Mount and Lord's Prayer compel us to admit inspiration. The
difficulty is this, that their precepts, admirable as they are, are not
original. There is scarcely one which is not to be found, identical in
substance and often almost in the exact words, in the older writings of
earlier religions and philosophies. Thus the cardinal precepts, such as to
" love your neighbor as yourself," to '« do as you would be done by," to
137
I38 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
"return good for evil," &c., are found in the old Egyptian ritual, the
Vedic literature, the maxims of Confucius, and still more conspicuously
in the oldest writings of the Buddhist and Zoroastrian religions.
And what is even more important, the Talmudic or Rabbinical literature
of the age immediately preceding that of Jesus is full of them; the writings
of Jesus the Son of Sirach, of Hillel, and of Philo, certain many of the
same precepts, almost verbatim, and they were the common possession of
the Jewish world at the time when the Sermon on the Mount is supposed
to have been preached.
These facts are undeniable, and it is equally undeniable that, if so, the
bottom is knocked out of Dr. Wace's assumption; for if these precepts
and this code of morality could be evolved in other ages and countries by
natural means, why should they require the miracle of Divine Inspiration
to account for them in the New Testament ? The Sermon no doubt has
its value in bringing to a focus a number of excellent precepts, and help-
ing to form the ideal of Jesus and his teaching, which has become the
fundamental fact of Christianity, but as anything like reasonable proof of
miraculous inspiration it is worthless. Nor is there anything in the
Lord's Prayer which might not have been the prayer of any pious Jew of
the time, or, for the matter of that, of any pious Gentile, for " Our Father
which art in heaven " is a literal translation of Jupiter, or Dyaus-piter, the
father of gods and men identified with the vault of the sky. And it
cannot be reasonably denied that the omission of all mention of it in Mark
tells strongly against its authenticity, for, if really taught by Jesus, it
would have been the very thing to be committed to memory, and taught
to all converts by his immediate disciples.
I refer to this argument of Dr. Wace's to illustrate what I find to be
the great fault of English theologians, viz. , that they shirk the obvious
difficulties which present themselves to the minds of ordinary men using
their reasoning faculties, and either refuse to reason and appeal to faith,
or battle about minor points which hardly touch the real objections.
When I turned to German criticism I found it less obscured by theo-
logical, but more by theoretical prepossessions. Every professor had his
own theory to establish, and that of his predecessors to demolish, and in
doing so applied an enormous amount of erudition to points which, for
the most part, seemed to me to remain doubtful, or to be of minor im-
portance. The effect produced on my mind by critics such as Strauss,
Baur, Volckmer, and Reuss was to leave a sort of blurred and hazy image,
as of a landscape in which the essential features are lost in the multitude
of details.
For instance, it seemed to me that the enormous mass of literature
which has been written to assign the precise date of each Gospel, their
respective priorities, how many successive editions they went through,
and how far each copied from the others or from older manuscripts,
might have been greatly abridged if the learned authors had been content
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 139
to take the simple, straightforward evidence of the earliest Christian
writer who gives any account of their origin, viz., Papias.
Papias was Bishop of Hieropolis, one of the churches in Asia Minor,
which was reputed to have been founded by St John, and who suffered
martyrdom for his faith when an aged man, about 160 A.D. He was
certainly in a position to know what was accepted as of authority by the
early Christian Church of his period. He had been in close personal
communication with Polycarp and others of the generation preceding his
own, who had been themselves disciples of the apostles, and his infor-
mation was therefore only removed by one degree from being that of a con-
temporary and eye-witness. His work is unfortunately lost, but Eusebius,
who was a great collector of information respecting the Gospels in the
fourth century, happily preserves the most important part of it in a long
quotation.
What does Papias say ? Practically this — that he preferred oral tradi-
tion to written documents, of which he expresses a somewhat contemp-
tuous opinion, assigning as a reason that there were only two written
records which possessed any real authority : one a collection of anecdotes
or reminiscences, taken down without method or order from the mouth
of St. Peter by Mark, his interpreter ; the other a collection of logia, or
sayings of Jesus, written by St. Matthew in Hebrew, and badly translated
into Greek by various writers.
This statement of Papias, if correct, proves several things : —
1. The Gospel of St. John could not have been known to Papias, or
he, a bishop of a church reputed to have been founded by that apostle
and a friend of Polycarp and others who had known him personally, could
never have expressed an almost contemptuous preference for oral tradition
over any written records, and made no mention of what has been always
considered the most important and spiritual of all the Gospels, proceed-
ing direct from the Apostle whom Jesus loved.
2. The same remark applies to the Gospel and Acts of St Luke,
which contain by far the most precise details of the crowning miracles of
the Resurrection and Ascension.
3. It is equally clear that he could not have known the Gospels of
Mark and Matthew as they now exist, for they are connected biographies
of the life and teachings of Jesus, and not fragmentary anecdotes and say-
ings such as Papias describes.
4. It is evident, however, that two written records— one attributed to
Mark and the other to Matthew — were known in the time of Papias, and
received as of sufficient authority to make him refer to them in his general
depreciation of written as compared with oral testimony.
This is a perfectly clear and intelligible statement, made apparently in
good faith, without any dogmatic or other prepossession; and it is con-
firmed by all the evidence we possess of this obscure period — whether it
be the external evidence that the Gospels in their present form are not
i4o BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
quoted or referred to as an authority by any Christian writer earlier than
the second century, or the internal evidence derived from the Gospels
themselves. That of Mark has exactly the appearance of having been
compiled into a biography from a series of such reminiscences as Papias
describes. It is full of little life-like touches which have no special signif-
icance, but seem to have come from the recollection of an eye-witness.
For instance, that the throng was so great to hear Jesus that not only the
room but the doorway were crowded, and that the hurry and bustle were
such that they had not time even to eat.
It is true that such touches are not conclusive, and may have been
added to give local color and a life-like character to the narrative, a re-
markable instance of which is afforded by the episode of the woman
taken in adultery, in St. John, which is not found in the oldest manu-
scripts, and is doubtless an interpolation. This episode has every appear-
ance of being taken from the life; the abstracted air, the writing with
the finger on the sand, the exact words spoken, all give it an air of reality,
and yet it must have been interpolated at a comparatively late date after
several manuscripts of the Gospel were already in existence. Such an
instance may make us hesitate in judging of similar passages from internal
evidence, but it hardly applies to Mark, whose characteristic traits are
much shorter and simpler, and whose level of culture and literary ability is
much lower than that of the compiler — whoever he may have been — of
the Gospel according to St. John.
The Gospel of Matthew, again, has exactly the appearance of having
been compiled from such a collection of logia as Papias describes, woven
into a biography by the aid of the original Mark and other early tradi-
*ions, and embellished by the addition of much mythical matter intended
to show the fulfillment of Messianic prophecies, and to meet objections.
. It has always seemed to me, therefore, that all theories as to the date
and origin of the Canonical Gospels were comparatively worthless which
did not take into account the fundamental fact of this statement of Papia*.
It is either true or false. If true it is worth a hundred theories evolved,
Hke the ideal camel, from the inner consciousness of German professors,
and is conclusive of the fact that the Gospels in their present form were
not known, or not accepted as an authority, by the early Christian
Churches of the East in the first half of the second century, though this
is quite consistent with their containing passages and traditions whieb
may date back to the siege of Jerusalem, or even to a much earlier period.
If, on the other hand, Papias is to be rejected, let us know the reason
why, and give us some sort of an intelligible explanation of how such a
passage came to be quoted from his work by Eusebius.1
1 The difference to which I have referred between the conclusions of common-sense
and those of erudite ingenuity acting under the influence of theological prepossession, fc
well illustrated by the attempt of Bishop Lightfoot, in his Essays on Supernatural Re-
to answer the obvious inference from this passage of Papias. Common sense says.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 141
I give this as an illustration of the way in which the more I studied
these professional works of Biblical criticism, the more confusion be-
came worse confounded. At length, after having abandoned the subject
for a time, I resolved, almost in despair, to see what conclusion I could
form for myself by the application of common sense and the ordinary
rules of evidence. I succeeded thus in forming a tolerably clear and
consistent view of what might be the real historical element in the origin
of Christianity, and the personality of its Founder. I do not pretend to
impose on others my own solution of this extremely difficult and obscure
question, but I think it may perhaps aid some sincere inquirers in giving
clearness and precision to their ideas, and denning the boundaries be-
tween what may be accepted by the ordinary rules of reason, and that
which lies outside the province of reason, and can only be accepted as an
article of faith.
To begin with, I believe that miracles lie entirely within the domain
if the Canonical Gospels, and especially that of St. John, had been extant in their present
term and accepted as an authority by the early Christian Church, Papias must have
known them. If he had known them he could not have referred in such contemptuous
terms to written records as inferior to oral tradition, and could not have mentioned
the disconnected anecdotes of Mark and the Hebrew logia of Matthew as the only
records of importance. Nor could Eusebius have quoted this passage alone from
Papias, which obviously tells against his own views, without quoting other passages whick
refer to the Canonical Gospels, if any such had existed in other portions of the work of
Papias. The Bishop replies —
1. That the design of Eusebius may have been to quote only references to the Apocry-
phal writings, and in the case of the Canonical Gospels anything which threw light OB
tiieir origin ; and therefore that the silence of Eusebius is no proof that there may not
fcave been references to and quotations from these Gospels in the writings of Papias.
But this, which is in itself a very far-fetched supposition, is contradicted by the words
of Eusebius himself, who says, " As my history proceeds, I will take care to indicate
what Church writers from time to time have made use of any of the disputed books, and
what has been said by them concerning the Canonical and acknowledged Scriptures.
2. That when Papias says, " I thought I could not derive so much advantage from
looks as from the living and abiding oral tradition," he meant books which were not Gos-
pels, but commentaries on Gospels.
Here again this far-fetched supposition is contradicted by Papias himself, who says
" books " without any qualification, and refers to written records, viz., the notes of Mark
and the logia of Matthew, which assuredly were not commentaries or interpretations of
existing Gospels, but historical records of the sayings and doings of the Founder of the
religion as much as the Canonical Gospels themselves; or rather they were the primary
matter and first forms of the Synoptic Gospels, and could not have been so referred
to, if the Gospels, in their more complete and elaborate form, and especially that accord-
ing to St. John, had been known to Papias and received as authorities.
The closer the connection is drawn between Papias and the Apostle John through Poly-
carp, and the Bishop insists greatly on this in his Essays, the more impossible does it be-
come that, if Papias had known of such a Gospel as is attributed to John, he could have
written such a sentence as is quoted from his lost works by Eusebius, saying that he could
get "little profit from books," and have referred, as he does, to Matthew and Mark,
without saying a word of John, or of the Gospel which is pre-eminently the foundation-
stone of Christian theology.
142 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
of faith. I mean real miracles, for a large number of those narrated by
the Gospels may well be natural occurrences described in the language of
the day. For instance, casting out devils, faith-healing, or curing para-
lytic affections of the nerve or will by a strong impulse; and the effects
of religious excitement, the sympathy of crowds, dreams, visions and
hallucinations, are all well-known causes at the present day, of effects
which in former ages would undoubtedly have been considered as mi-
raculous. These may very well have actually occurred, and be as historical
as any other part of the narrative.
But when we come to such miracles as raising the dead, or perma-
nently curing organic diseases, they require a special supernatural inter-
ference with the laws of nature. Now what does reason say to such
miracles ? It tells us that in thousands of such cases of alleged miracles,
both in Pagan, early Christian, and mediaeval ages, once firmly believed
in and attested by what seems strong contemporary evidence, not one
now holds the field and is seriously accepted, with the possible exception
of some half-dozen, which are accepted solely on the authority of the
New Testament.
Take, as an illustration, the statement that one who was really dead
returned to life. There are some thousand millions of people living in
the world who are renewed by death and birth at least three times in every
century, and this has been going on for some fifty centuries. That
makes some 15,000,000,000 human beings who have died, and of whom
it may be said with certainty that not one has ever returned in the body
to life. You wish to establish some five or six exceptions to this rule, or
rather one, for if the return to life of Jesus cannot be proved, few would
be disposed to rest their faith in miracles on any other of the alleged cases
of resurrection. And the historical truth of the appearances of a living
and tangible Jesus after death hinges mainly on the account of the
Ascension given by St. Luke in the Acts of the Apostles. This is the
crowning miracle of all, the appropriate conclusion of his mission on
earth, and strongest proof of his Divine nature; and it is described in the
fullest detail as having occurred in the presence of a large number of wit-
nesses. St. Paul says of this, or of some other appearance not recorded
in any of the Gospels, five hundred witnesses, many of whom remained
alive till his day, and in a definite and well-known locality close to the
large city of Jerusalem. If the evidence for this miracle fails us, how
can we believe in others more obscure and less well authenticated ?
Surely the evidence for an event which is a solitary exception to
15,000,000,000 experiences, requires to be proved by testimony far
stronger than would be required to prove an ordinary occurrence. But
how stands the evidence for the miracle of the Ascension ? Of the four
witnesses called into court, one, Mark, the oldest of all, and probably
deriving his information direct from St, Peter, makes no mention what-
ever (if we omit the last verses, which are an obvious addendum, and, as
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE.
143
fee authors of the revised edition tell us, are not found in the oldest
manuscripts) of the Ascension, or of any other supernatural event con-
nected with the Resurrection. Matthew says distinctly that the message
sent by Jesus to his apostles was to "depart into Galilee," and that they
went there accordingly, where they saw him, but "some doubted," and
makes no reference to any Ascension. John describes certain miracles
occurring at Jerusalem, but places the concluding scene of the Resurrec-
tion, when Jesus took his final farewell of his disciples, in Galilee, and,
like Mark and Matthew, makes no mention of any Ascension.
Observe that Luke says distinctly that Jesus charged the apostles " not
to depart from Jerusalem," and that all the miraculous appearances, in-
cluding the Ascension, occurred there. There cannot be a more flagrant
contradiction than that between Matthew and Luke. Consider now^what
would be the chance of establishing, not a stupendous miracle, but such
a commonplace event as the signature of a will, if the first witness called
was a solicitor who said that the testator in his last illness asked him to
remain in London to draw and attest his will, which he did, while the
second witness was another solicitor, who swore that the testator told him
he was going down to his place in Yorkshire on the chance that the air
of the country might revive him, and asked the witness to follow him there
by the next day's train, in order to complete his will, which instructions
he accordingly carried out. And let any candid and dispassionate person
say how, if tried by the ordinary rules of reason, this differs from the
direct contradiction between Matthew and Luke.
With this conclusive proof of the impossibility of establishing the great-
est of all miracles by the ordinary rules of evidence, it is almost super-
fluous to refer to the many other circumstances which, on the showing of
the Gospels themselves, lead to the same result For instance, the next
greatest miracle to those of the Resurrection, the raising of Lazarus, is re-
lated only in one Gospel, and that the latest and least authentic; while if
it really occurred, it must have been known to and recorded by the three
other evangelists. Or what can be said of the admission that even the
minor miracles of casting out devils and faith-healing depended on faith,
and could not be performed in the sceptical atmr sphere of Nazareth,
where Jesus and his family and surroundings were well known; or of the
refusal of Jesus to comply with the perfectly reasonable request of the
Pharisees to prove His Messiahship by a sign from heaven, a refusal which,
if He possessed the power, was unfair to men who, if narrow and fanati-
cal, were doubtless many of them sincere and zealous for their country
and religion.
I do not see how it can be doubted that the evidence for many early
Christian and mediaeval miracles, which no one any longer believes, is
much stronger than those of the Gospels. St. Augustine, a perfectly his-
torical and leading personage of his day, testifies that in his own time,
and in his own bishopric of Hippo, upwards of seventy miracles, had
I44 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
been wrought by the relics of St Stephen. The friend and biographer of
St Ambrose relates numerous miracles, one a resurrection from the dead,
which had been notoriously wrought at Milan by the saint during his life-
time. Eginhard, the secretary of Charlemagne, who was a well-known
historical character, relates, as from his own experience, a number of mir-
acles wrought by the relics of two Christian martyrs which an emissary of
his had purloined from Rome, and which he was transporting to Heili-
genstadt To come to later times, St Thomas-a-Becket was as well
known an historical character as King Henry, but no miracles were attrib-
uted to him in his life-time; but after his murder, under circumstances
causing universal horror and excitement, a whole crop of miracles sprung
up about his shrine at Canterbury. Any one who will consult the authori-
ties cited by Freeman will be astonished to find how very precise and cir-
cumstantial is the evidence for many of these miracles. One instance is
that of the attestation of the mayor and several burgesses of a Northern bor-
ough, to the fact that a fellow-townsman of theirs, blind from his youth,
had gone to the shrine and returned with perfect sight. There is nothing
in the account of any miracle in the New Testament at all approaching
this in what constitutes the force of evidence, precision of date, place, per-
sons, and circumstance. And yet for millions who believe on the weaker
evidence, there is scarcely one who retains any belief in such miracles as
those related of St. Thomas-a-Becket
The reason is obvious; miracles are in a totally distinct province, that
of faith. What is faith ? St. Paul tells us it is " the assurance of things
hoped for, the proving of things not seen." Hardly of "things not
seen," for in that case, mathematicians and chemists who believe in atoms
and molecules would, of all men, have the largest faith. But say of
"things not proven," and it is a very accurate definition. There can be
no doubt that there are men, often of great piety and excellence, who
have, or fancy they have, a sort of sixth sense, or as Cardinal Newman
calls it, an "illative sense," by which they see by intuition, and arrive at
a fervid conviction of the truth of things unprovable or disprovable by
ordinary reason. The existence of a personal God, the divinity of Christ,
the inspiration of the Bible, and consequent reality of miracles, appear to
them to be fundamental and necessary truths beyond the scope of reason.
They feel that if their belief in these were shaken their whole life would
be shattered, and they would lose what Wordsworth says Nature was to
him—
"The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being."
With such men I have no quarrel. Let them hold to their faith, and
leave reason to poor ordinary mortals, who, like myself, have no such
transcendental intuitions. Only do not let them confound the two prov-
inces, and try to ride on two horses at the same time. Faith is either a
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 145
delusion, or something, which is above and beyond reason. If the latter,
they only weaken it by seeking to prop it up by weak and sophistical
arguments. If, for instance, a man tells me that he believes in the miracle
of the Ascension by faith, I have no more to say; but if he proceeds to
back up his assertion by arguing that there is no contradiction between
Luke's account of it and that of the other evangelists, I say, " This man
is either insincere or illogical." His motto is, " Believe if you can ; if
you can't, Cant." .
I do not, therefore, so much deny the truth of the Christian miracles
as affirm that they are altogether outside of the province of reason, and
have no place in such an historical resume as I am attempting to give in
this essay.
Another reservation I have to make, that if the historical element in
the life of Jesus may seem to be reduced to very slender proportions, this
does not necessarily affect the vital truth of the Christian religion. This
religion has always been to a considerable extent, and is becoming more
and more every day, not so much a question of external evidence or of
dogma, as of a sincere love and reverence for the ideal which has come to
be associated with the name of Jesus. This ideal is a fact, and has long
been, and will continue to be, an important factor in the progress of
human evolution from lower to higher things. How the ideal grew up
and came to be established is of far less importance than what it is.
Love, charity, purity, compassion, self-sacrifice are not the less virtues
because the ideas and emotions of so many good men and women, for
nineteen centuries, have taken form and crystallized about a comparatively
small nucleus of historical fact
My meaning will be best explained by an illustration. In Catholic
countries there is a figure which competes with, if indeed it do not often
supersede, that of Jesus — the figure of the Virgin Mary. Now here we
can trace the historical nucleus down to a minimum. What do we really
know of the mother of Jesus as an historical fact ? That she was a
Jewish matron, the wife of a mechanic in a small provincial town, the
mother of a large family, for four brothers of Jesus are mentioned as well
as sisters. Apart from the legends of the Nativity, which are obviously
mythical, nothing else is known of her, except that she was probably one
of the sceptical friends and kindred at Nazareth whose want of faith pre-
vented the working of miracles there, and whose impression seems to have
been that Jesus was not altogether in his right mind. Her relations with
her Son do not appear to have been very cordial, from his refusal to go
out to her when she came to the door asking to see him, and his em-
phatic assertion that those who believed in him were dearer to him than his
blood relations.
The only other mention of Mary by St. John, who describes her as
sitting at the foot of the Cross, is apocryphal, being directly contradicted
by the very precise statement in the three other Gospels, that the Mary
M6 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
who was present on that occasion was a different woman, the mother of
Salome". The motive of this introduction of Mary, the mother of Jesus,
by the author of the fourth Gospel is obvious, viz. , to exalt the character
of St John, as is apparent throughout this Gospel, in which the "Boan-
erges, " the violent and narrow-minded John of the other Gospels, is con-
verted into the gentle and amiable apostle whom Jesus loved.
What is the sort of figure which, if we relied on historical evidence
only, we should draw from these scanty records ? That of a plain,
motherly Jewish woman, who did her own scrubbing and washing, and
was probably too much oppressed by household cares, and those of a
large family, to know or care much for the spiritual aspirations and pro-
phetical pretensions of her eldest son.
And yet from this homely figure what a world of beautiful ideas and
associations have flowered into life. The Madonna has become an em-
bodiment of all female virtues carried to a point where they become
divine. Love, purity, innocence, maternal affection, human suffering,
have all found their highest ideal in the " Mother of God," the "mild
and merciful Madonna," the "Blessed Virgin." Do you tell me this is
not a fact because it is not based on historical evidence ? I tell you it is
&fact, far more certain and more important than nine-tenths of the events
related in history. If you doubt it, look at Raffaelle's Madonna di San
Sisto, or Murillo's Immaculate Conception; or listen to Mozart's Ave Maria,
or Rossini's Stabat Mater, and you will see that this ideal worship of the
carpenter's wife of Nazareth has produced works which will remain for
ever as high-water marks which have been reached in the evolution of
modern art. You will say with Byron —
" Ave Maria, oh, that face so fair,
Those downcast eyes beneath the Almighty dove.
Ave Maria, may our spirits dare
Soar up to thee and to thy son above."
And so of Jesus; the historical figure, though a good deal more certain
and definite than that of his mother, is but a small matter compared with
the ideal which has grown up in the course of ages about it. It is but as
the fragment which, dropping into a saturated solution, attracts molecule
after molecule, until it grows into a large and lovely crystal which all eyes
admire.
With these reservations, which may go some way to mitigate the
scruples of orthodox readers, if I should happen to have any, viz., that
miracles are a question of faith, and that the historical element does not
materially affect the vital truth of Christianity, I fall back on my own
humble province of reason, and attempt to show what can be gathered by
it from the earliest records as to the personality and teaching of Jesus.
I begin by stating the two principles by which I have been mainly
guided in the research. The first is what I call the ' ' Minimum of
Miracle." Of different biographies of the same person, that which con-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 147
tains the fewest miraculous legends is almost certain to be the earliest and
most authentic. It is far more likely that such legends should be added
or invented than that, if they actually occurred, or were generally
accredited, they should be designedly omitted. As an illustration of what
I mean by this, take the case already referred to of St. Thomas-a-Becket.
If newspapers had existed in his time which published a biography of
eminent men on the day after their death, such a biography would have
contained no miracles; one written a few weeks later would have doubtless
contained some reference to the miraculous vision of the monk who
watched by his remains, and some of the miracles said to have occurred
at his shrine; while still later accounts would have multiplied the
miracles into scores and hundreds. There can be no doubt here that the
succession in point of time would have been, no miracles, few miracles,
many miracles. And the same holds good of all biographies of eminent
men, saints, and martyrs. The outlines of their historical figures are
almost lost in the accumulation of myths and legends, which in uncritical
times have grown up about them.
The second even more important principle is, that admissions of events
and sayings which tell against the point of view of the writer, are far more
likely to be historical, than those which have the appearance of being
introduced to show the fulfillment of prophecies, to answer objections, or
to support dogmatic views. Thus if Jesus is described as being born and
bred at Nazareth, the son of a carpenter whose family and surroundings
were well known there, the statement is far more likely to be true than one
which describes him as having been born at Bethlehem, and attributes to
him a whole series of marvellous and miraculous incidents.
Tried by both these tests, the Gospel of Mark has every appearence of
being the earliest and most authentic record, and when this is confirmed
by the clear and explicit statement of Papias, I have no hesitation in
assuming it to be the surest basis of our historical knowledge, and in all
probability mainly derived from the reminiscenes of Peter himself, or of
other contemporary witnesses of the events described.
Starting from this basis, I assume, as beyond all doubt, that Jesus was
an historical personage. There is nothing in Mark which would lead to
the supposition that any considerable portion of his Gospel was legend or
myth. The time is too modern, and the narrative too precise, to allow
us to suppose that the whole story had been elaborated by later theolo-
gians from Oriental myths and Messianic prophecies. The age was long
past when religions could originate in solar myths and misunderstood
personifications of natural phenomena. Every great religious movement
which comes fairly within the historical period, from Buddha and Zor-
oaster down to Mahomet, had some real personality as its starting-point,
about whom myths and dogmas accumulated, until almost obscuring the
the historical nucleus, So also was doubtless the case with Jesus.
The next point I consider to be quite certain is, that he was bora of
I48 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
humble parents at the little town of Nazareth in Galilee. The legends
of the Nativity and Infancy may all be dismissed as purely mythical.
The two accounts and genealogies in Matthew and Luke do not agree,
and are each hopelessly inconsistent with the evidence of the other Gos-
pels. It is plain that during his life and afterwards Jesus was supposed
to have been born at Nazareth, that this was cast in his teeth as being
irreconcilable with any claim to be the Messiah, and that neither he nor
his apostles ever attempted to deny it, or made any claim to his having
been born at Bethlehem. If such a series of startling events as are de-
scribed by Matthew had really occurred, the inhabitants of Nazareth could
hardly have ignored his claims as a prophet on the ground that he was a
mere ordinary fellow townsman, " the Son of the carpenter, whose brothers
and sisters are with us every day."
The accounts of the Nativity, Infancy, and early Manhood of Jesus may
be dismissed as purely legendary. I do not say so merely because they
contain so many miracles, but on the ordinary grounds of historical
criticism. In the first place, the two accounts of Matthew and Luke are
contradictory. The second admits that Nazareth was the abode of Joseph
and Mary, and accounts for the birth of Jesus at Bethlehem by the sup-
posed necessity of Joseph's going there to be taxed, as being of the family
of David; while the first assumes that Bethlehem was the abode of the
parents, and says that they only went to Nazareth some years later from
fear of Archelaus, who had succeeded to his father Herod. Matthew
describes the Massacre of the Innocents at Bethlehem, and says that Jesus
escaped it by flying into Egypt; while Luke omits all mention of the
"^assacre, the miraculous star and the wise men of the East, and says that
the parents took the babe straight to Jerusalem. In both cases all the
events are described as happening in fulfillment of prophecies. The other
two evangelists, Mark and John, make no mention of any such occurrences,
and begin their biographies with the visit of Jesus, when a grown-up man
to John the Baptist
But the most conclusive fact is that these legends are identical, 'both in
their general tenor and in many minute details, with similar legends of
earlier religions. Thus the miraculous birth from a virgin is related of
Horus, of Krishna, of Buddha, and of many of the celebrated heroes and
gods of antiquity, and is almost certainly derived from a solar myth of the
sun rising in the constellation of Virgo. The story of the massacre of the
innocents is related of Krishna, and if we accept the narrative of Matthew,
we have to suppose that there were two wicked kings, one in India and
another in Judaea, separated by an interval of many centuries, who both
adopted the same expedient of a massacre of all male children under two
years of age, to destroy a Divine Incarnation who was born in one of their
cities. The escape by flight, owing to a miraculous warning and other
particulars, are almost word for word the same in the two legends, and
we may fairly assume that both are alike unhistorical. We know that a
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 149
whole crop of such legends grow up in early Christian tradition, for we
have the Gospel of the Infancy, which is full of the most childish and
-,bsurd magical tricks, supposed to have been performed during the boy-
hood of the Messiah.
The first firm historical ground is afforded by the Gospel of St Mark,
who begins with the visit of Jesus to John the Baptist. This is very
likely to be true, for we know from Josephus that the time was one of
great religious and political excitement, and that there were several such
preachers or prophets as John the Baptist is described to have been, who
went about holding what may be called camp-meetings, and in some
cases causing local insurrections, which had to be repressed by the
Roman soldiery. Nothing is more likely than that a young man of orig-
inal genius and strong religious sentiment, should go to one of such
meetings, not far from his home, to hear a celebrated preacher. That
such a young man was not altogether satisfied with the narrow and fierce
denunciations of a rude ascetic, and did not enroll himself as one of his
disciples, was also very probable; but that John really did make a con-
siderable impression on him is evident from the fact that he left his home
immediately afterwards, assumed the character of a wandering missionary,
and began to preach identically the same gospel as that of John — " Re-
pent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."
Let us pause for a moment to consider what was meant by the king-
dom of heaven being at hand. It did not mean such a millennium as
certain enthusiasts may now suppose, after nineteen centuries of unful-
filled expectation, that is, the advent of an era of purer morals and bette*
laws, but the literal end of the world and last judgment, to take place
within the lifetime of some of the existing generation. " The sun was to
be darkened, the moon not to give her light, and the stars fall from
heaven." And then they were to see the " Son of Man coming in clouds
with great power and glory," and his angels to gather all mankind from
the four winds of heaven before the judgment seat, where the tares are to
be separated from the wheat, the goats from the sheep, the good rewarded
and the wicked cast into everlasting fire. Nothing can be more explicit
than the assurance that this event would come to pass in the lifetime of
the present generation. "Verily I say unto you, This generation shall
not pass away until all these things are accomplished."
Such was evidently the current opinion among the apostles and early
Christians; and even the cultured and educated Paul, some twenty years
later, repeats it with the fullest conviction, and describes how "the Lord
shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel,
and with the trump of God ; " and how " the dead shall rise first ; then
we that are alive, that are left, shall together with them be caught up in
the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air."
It is clear that, according to all rules of ordinary reason, predictions
thus confidently made and conclusively refuted, are an irresistible argu-
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
ment against the possession of any inspiration or special foresight on the
part of the prophets, and that prophecies, like miracles, must be relegated
to the province of faith. But, on the other hand, they bring us nearer to
the human and historical element in the New Testament. They supply a
motive power which may explain the early conversions and the rapid
spread of the new religion. Evidently the hope of a large and immediate
reward was present in the minds of the apostles. These humble peasants
and fishermen were " to sit on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes
of Israel," and " every one who has left houses, or brethren, or sisters, or
children, or lands, for My Name's sake, shall receive a hundred-fold."
And this not in a remote future, but in the lifetime of the existing genera-
tion. It is conceivable also that many educated Jews, who despaired of
an armed resistance to the overwhelming power of Rome, might be in-
clined to view with favor the idea of a spiritual Messiah who should bring
about the advent of an end of the world and last judgment, in which the
elect children of God should be rewarded and the heathen punished.
Another element which must have contributed largely towards the re-
ception of the Gospel by the poorer classes, is the extreme socialistic
spirit which is uniformly displayed. For "rich "write "capital," and
for "poor'' "wages," and the preaching of Jesus is almost identical
with that of modern socialists. The poor are to be rewarded and the rich
punished in the kingdom of God, irrespective of any merit or demerit.
Thus, "blessed are ye poor," "woe unto you that are rich." Even the
rich young man, who had kept all the Commandments, is told that he
cannot be saved unless he "sells all his possessions, and gives to the
poor; " and the remark of Jesus is, that it is " easier for a camel to go
through a needle's eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of
God." For anything that appears to the contrary, Lazarus may have
been a loafing vagabond, who had brought poverty and disease upon
himself by his own misconduct, and Dives a man who, having inherited
a large estate, spent it hospitably in entertaining his neighbors; but no
moral is inculcated. It is enough that Lazarus is poor and Dives rich to
place one in Abraham's bosom and the other in eternal fire.
It is evidently neither in these falsified prophecies nor in this exagger-
ated socialism that we are to find the fascination which the ideal of Jesus
has exercised over so many minds for so many centuries. It is rather in
the interpretation which he gave to the first words of the Baptist's formula,
" Repent ye, for the kingdom of God is at hand." Repentance, as taught
by Jesus, meant not merely an outward obedience to formal laws and
abstinence from direct breaches of moral commandments, but such a
spiritual conversion as embraced the whole sphere of human life, and
made the very idea of sin insupportable. Men were to be good, pure,
merciful, compassionate and charitable, because the principle of "loving
God, and thy neighbor as thyself," was so wrought into the soul that it
became a second nature. The law was to be observed, but in a liberal,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 151
tolerant, and comprehensive spirit, and the intention was to be looked to
rather than the outward act. The widow's mite was of more value than
the rich man's offering, and the publican's remorseful prayer was more
acceptable than the formal and lengthened devotions .of the strait-laced
Pharisee.
It is remarkable, when we come to consider it, how much more the
ideal of Jesus, which is the central fact of Christianity, if founded on the
precepts and parables by which this spiritual religion is taught, and by the
human incidents of his life which illustrate it, than it is on the alleged
miracles. The Sermon on the Mount, the Parable of the good Samaritan,
the tenderness to children, the affectionate and "sweetly reasonable" in-
tercourse with his humble followers, these and such as these are the traits
which build up the ideal character which draws all hearts.
The miracles, on the other hand, are at best, but capricious in-
stances of a supernatural power, healing one and leaving thousands un-
healed, and failing when most required as evidences, as in the case of the
incredulous Nazarenes and the Pharisees who asked for a sign; while at
the worst, some of them are wholly inconsistent with the historical char-
acter of the just and gentle Jesus. Thus the miracle of the Gadarene
swine, if true, obviously detracts from this character. It is an act of
cruelty to animals, for what had the poor swine done to deserve death, and
it is a wanton destruction of property cruel to the owners. Doubtless
these swine had owners, some perhaps poor Galilaean peasants, who like
those of Donegal or Gal way, depended on the pig to pay their rent and
save them from eviction. It was a wanton and a cruel act to send their
humble property to destruction in order to please a pack of devils. Again,
the miracle of the fig-tree reads rather like the hasty curse of a passionate
fool, than the act of a gentle, long-suffering, and sweetly reasonable man.
But to return to the historical narrative, I find no difficulty in believ-
ing that the accounts of the commencement of the mission of Jesus, of his
comings and goings among the small towns of Galilee, of his camp-meet-
ings, and of most of his preachings, parables, and sayings, are substan-
tially accurate. There is nothing improbable in them, except in some of
the miracles taken literally, and these may readily be explained, or indeed
were inevitable, in such a medium of excited crowds of poor and ignorant
men, where every one believed in miracles as events of daily occurrence,
and where many natural acts of faith-healing and casual coincidences had
given a popular prophet the reputation of being a worker of mighty
works.
Indeed many of the miracles appear as if they had a nucleus of histori-
cal fact, which became expanded into legend. Thus, the legends of
Jesus and Peter walking on the sea appear to be based on the first simple
narrative, how a sudden squall having overtaken the boat in which they
were crossing at night, they awoke Jesus, who was asleep, and the squall
passed over.
I52 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Those, again, of the "loaves and fishes" may have readily arisen
from the recollection of some occasion when a scanty supply of food had
lasted out longer than was expected, owing very probably to many of those
who attended the camp-meeting having brought their own provisions, a
conjecture which is confirmed by the abundance of baskets in which to
collect the fragments, and which could not have been required to carry
seven or five loaves.
These, however, are mere conjectures, and not to be taken as facts, and
I only mention them to show that a good many of the miraculous legends
need not necessarily detract from the general historical value of Mark's
simple narrative of this early part of the career of Jesus in Galilee.
And I think the sayings and parables may generally be taken as au-
thentic. It is true that many^of both may be found in the literature of the
Talmud and of older religions, but this does not negative the probability
that Jesus may have used them in his popular addresses, and at any rate
they afford a view of what his doctrine and style of preaching really were
and many of the parables and shorter sayings are just such things as would
be readily retained in the memory and transmitted by oral tradition.
Many of the details also of the incidents and wanderings to and fro of
this Galilean period are very like what might be expected from the rem-
iniscences in old age of an apostle like Peter, who had accompanied Jesus
from the first, though we must always recollect that the author who
worked up these reminiscences, as described by Papias, into a connected
biography, may have added a good deal from other sources.
I am inclined also to accept as authentic a good many of the contro-
versies between Jesus and the Scribes and Pharisees. They are exactly
in the style of the verbal conflicts which were so common in the East,
and which survived down to the scholastic tournaments of the Middle
Ages. An opponent makes a desperate thrust by a puzzling question, it
is parried by an adroit answer, both leaving the root of the matter un-
touched. Thus the celebrated answer, "Render unto Caesar the things
that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's," is clever, but
no answer to the real question whether a conscientious servant of Jehovah
could voluntarily pay taxes to a heathen power which had usurped his
place. The position was precisely that of a conscientious Dissenter in
our own days, who was in doubt whether to pay Church rates, or let his
chattels be seized. He would have got little enlightenment from being
told to pay Queen Victoria the things that were hers, and render to God
what was God's. The question was, what things were Caesar's and what
God's.
Again, the puzzle of the Sadducees, whose wife she would be in
heaven who had been married successively to seven brothers, remains a
puzzle to this day. It is no question of marrying in the kingdom of
heaven, but of marriages which have taken place on earth. Shall we pre-
serve our personal identity after death, so that two souls which have been
PRO 1 1 LI-. MS OF THE J'UTURE. 153
united by the holiest and closest ties while living, shall be united in a
future life ? Shall we know and recognize those whom we have loved
and lost :
•* See every face we feared to see no more ; "
or is Arthur's last wish th.u Guinevere should cling to him and not to
Launcelot, when they meet before " the fair father Christ," a vain dream ?
If it be not, who can answer the Sadducees' question or say more than
our greatest poet —
" Behind the veil, behind the veil ? "
What Jesus might have said, but did not, is, The rule is an abominable
one; it degrades the sanctity of marriage, and reduces woman to a mere
chattel, who is to be handed over like an ox or an ass — they to bear bur-
dens, she to bear children — for their master Man.
Up to this point, therefore, I see no difficulty in accepting the Synop-
tic narrative, best told in the earliest and simplest Gospel of Mark, as being
in the main historical. And if so, the best picture I can form of it is
something very like the Salvation Army of the present day. The move-
ment had evidently no political significance, and attracted little notice,
or Josephus must have mentioned it, and there is no trace of any interfer-
ence with it, in the earliest stages, on the part of the authorities. In fact,
the modern Salvationists have suffered more from provincial Bumbles and
Justice Shallows than Jesus and his disciples seem to have done while
they remained in Galilee. But, like the Salvation Army, there was a
loose organization of a general, twelve principal officers, and a body of
disciples or professed adherents, who went about holding camp-meetings
and preaching the advent of the kingdom of God and a new and better
life to excited crowds, who listened eagerly and on the whole sympathized
with them. The only difference was in the superior genius, eloquence
and attractiveness of the personality at the head of the movement, and the
purity, spirituality, and general excellence of his doctrine.
There are one or two points in this doctrine which it is interesting to
consider. Did Jesus consider himself as a Jewish reformer, or as the
founder of a new religion ? Decidedly the former. The declarations are
quite explicit : ' ' Think not that I come to destroy the law or the proph-
ets, but to fulfill ; " "Till heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one
tittle shall in no wise pass away from the law ; " "I was not sent but unto
the lost sheep of the house of Israel." He was as far as possible from
Paul's doctrine, that he was sent to liberate the Jews from the bondage of
the law, and to introduce a new and universal religion for Jews and Gen-
tiles alike. But in a few exceptional cases he healed Gentiles who had
shown extraordinary faith, and his interpretation of the law was a large and
liberal one, looking to the spirit rather than the letter of the Mosaic com-
mandments, and rejecting the trifling and vexatious rules which the Scribes
and Pharisees had introduced in later times. Thus, he strolled through
iS4 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
the fields on a Sunday afternoon with his disciples, plucking ears of corn,
and declared that ' ' the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sab-
bath," a saying in respect of which our modern Pharisees have generally
sided with those of old rather than with the liberal minded and tolerant
Jesus.
What did Jesus believe respecting his own Messiahship ? This is a
very perplexing question, aggravated by the tendency, after the doctrine-
was firmly established, to invent or adopt traditions showing that he had
fulfilled the conditions attached to such a character by the prophecies of
the Old Testament, and by the prevailing expectations.
But it is tolerably clear that in the early part of his career he advanced
no such pretension. The Gospels all agree in describing the remarkable
persistency with which he endeavored to suppress all evidence which
tended to support such a claim. The evil spirits who recognize him,
the patients whom he miraculously cures, Peter when he calls him the
Christ, are all enjoined to "tell no man anything." When the little
damsel is supposed to have been raised from the dead, his first care is to
" charge them much that no man should know this." In any ordinary
case the inference would be that he did not wish miracles, which passed
muster with ignorant disciples, to be investigated by impartial and ed-
ucated critics. If this explanation be negatived as inconsistent with his
pure and holy character, the only other that can be suggested is, that
he did not wish it to be supposed that he was a supernatural being at-
tested by miracles, believing miracles to be vulgar things of which even
false prophets might be capable, but that he preferred to rely on the
excellence of his doctrine and his own powers of eloquence and per-
suasion.
It would seem, however, that later in his career the conviction began
to dawn on him that he might be the Messiah of the prophecies, and that
he stood in some peculiar relation to God, and would be His vicegerent
in inagurating His kingdom and holding the assizes of the last judgment.
The most distinct assertion of this is found after he had gone to Jeru-
salem, in his reputed reply to the adjuration of the high priest to say
whether he was "the Christ, the Son of the Blessed," to which he replied,
according to one version, ' ' I am, " and to another, ' ' thou sayest "
It is evident, however, that he never thought of equalling himself to
God, or representing himself in the literal sense as being "of one sub-
stance with the Father," and he would probably have torn his clothes and
shouted "blasphemy" if he had heard the articles of the Athanasian
Creed. To the last he uses the term ' ' Son of man" in speaking of him-
self, even in his answer to the high priest, and he never adopts the lan-
guage of the evil spirits who address him as "Jesus, thou Son of the
Most High God," or as "the Holy One of God." He never doubts that
" my Father is greater than I," or that God alone knows things which he
does not know.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 155
The best clue to his conception of himself is, to my mind, afforded
by the pathetic dying words, " Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani ?" These,
if any, must be historical, for they tell against the orthodox view, and
could never have been invented, while they are just the sort of thing
which would impress itself, in the actual words spoken, on the memory
of his affectionate disciples. But if these words were really spoken, they
show that he really believed himself to be the promised Messiah, and
trusted up to the last in some signal miraculous act of deliverance, such
as the advent of the last day, or the descent from heaven of "more than
twelve legions of angels. "
It is worthy of remark that the author of Luke seems to have felt the
force of this objection, for he transforms the expression into "my God,
into Thy hands I commend my spirit, anc inserts "Forgive them, for
they know not what they do," which words are not found in any other
record. It is evident that if Luke's version had represented the words
really spoken, they could never have been altered by eye-witnesses or by
early tradition, into words conveying such a totally different impression
as " My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"
We come now to the concluding scene at Jerusalem, when it becomes
more than ever difficult to distinguish between fact and legend. The
narrative of the three Synoptic Gospels are fairly consistent up to the Cru-
cifixion, when they become hopelessly discordant That of John is
apparently founded on the same tradition, though, after the fashion of the
author, dealt with in a very free-hand way, altered, transposed so as to make
it the ground-work for several dogmatical speeches and visits to Jerusalem,
and embellished by various amendments and details. But the primitive
narrative is clear enough. Jesus and his apostles go up to Jerusalem to
keep the Passover ; they are received there with a triumphal procession ;
Jesus clears the Temple of the money-changers ; the authorities become
alarmed, but are afraid to arrest him openly, as the people are in his
favor ; one of the apostles betrays his hiding-place, and he is arrested at
night ; he is tried and condemned by the Sanhedrim and by the Roman
Governor ; Pilate believes him to be innocent and tries to save him, but
the Jews clamor for his blood ; Pilate yields, and he is crucified.
Thus far the story is consistent, and it involves nothing that is im-
possible. But it is full of the gravest improbabilities. Why should the
Jews, who one day are so much in his favor that the authorities are afraid
to arrest him, be converted in a single day into a furious crowd clamoring
for his execution ? Why should an appeal to Pilate be necessary for a
religious offence against the Mosaic law, when Stephen, under precisely
similar circumstances, was publicly stoned to death, and Paul made havoc
of Christians without any Roman mandate ? Why should false witnesses,
whose testimony was inconsistent, be required to prove an offence which
Jesus avowed in open court ?
But the portion of the narrative which relates to Pilate is that which is
I56 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
open to the gravest suspicion. It is opposed alike to human nature and
to Roman practice, that a high functionary should first publicly proclaim
his belief in the innocence of a prisoner whom he -was trying, and go
through the solemn act of washing his hands to show that he would not
be guilty of his blood, and immediately afterwards condemn him to a
cruel and ignominious death. Nor is it conceivable that such a Gover-
nor, if forced to yield by the threat of being reported to Caesar for dis-
loyalty, should insist, against the remonstrances of the Jewish rulers, in
placing an inscription on the cross which proclaimed Jesus to be " the
king of the Jews."
In fact, the whole episode of Pilate ha? very much the air of being an
interpolation of much later date, -when the feeling of hatred between
Christians and Jews had become intense. The object evidently is to show
that this hatred was justified by the Jews having imprecated the blood of
Jesus on their own heads and those of their sons, and to represent the
heathens as having been better than the Jews, inasmuch as Pilate tried to
save Jesus, and to a certain extent believed in him. It is difficult to be-
lieve that such a narrative could have come from men like Peter, John,
and James, who remained devout Jews, zealous for their faith and coun-
try.
Nor, again, it is easy to see how, if the events had really assumed the
publicity and importance assigned to them, there should be no mention
of them by Josephus, or any contemporary writer especially if there was,
as the Gospels say, a miraculous darkness over the land, an earthquake,
the veil of the Temple rent, and ghosts walked about the streets. The
Gospel narratives also, though consistent in the main outlines, contain a
number of discrepancies in details which show that they were not derived
from any one written document or from any fixed tradition. Thus,
Judas' death is differently described. Herod is introduced by Luke and
not mentioned by the others. Jesus carried his own cross in one account,
while Simon of Cyrene bore it in another. Jesus gave no answer to
Pilate, says Matthew; he explained that ' ' his kingdom was not of this
world," says John. Mary his mother sat at the foot of the cross, accord-
ing to John; it was not his mother, but another Mary, the mother of
Salome, who "beheld from afar," according to Mark and Matthew.
There was a guard set to watch the tomb, says Matthew; there is no men-
tion of one by the others.
These, however, are minor discrepancies which are only important as
showing that there was no clearly fixed historical tradition, except of the
general outline of the course of events, when the different Gospels were
compiled, and subsequent to the Crucifixion there is, as we have already
seen, a hopeless discordance.
In some cases it is almost possible to trace, step by step, how the
legends grew with each successive repetition. Thus, according to Mark,
two women went to the tomb, found the stone rolled away and the tomb
PROBLEMS OJ' THE FUTURE. ' 157
empty, and saw a young man clothed in white who gave them a message
to Peter and the disciples, that Jesus has risen and gone before them to
Galilee, where they would see him — a message which they never delivered,
being afraid. In Matthew the young man has become an angel who
rolled the stone away and sat on it, delivering the same message to go to
Galilee, where his disciples would see him, which they ran and delivered.
In Luke there are the same two Marys, with another woman named
Joanna, and several others, and they saw, not one but two men in daz-
zling apparel; "go to Galilee" is changed into "as he spoke unto you
while yet in Galilee," which in the Acts is enlarged into a positive injunc-
tion ' ' not to depart from Jerusalem ; " and Peter is introduced as run-
ning to the tomb and finding it empty. In John there are two angels ;
John runs along with Peter to the tomb; and Mary Magdalene has a
miraculous vision of Jesus, whom she at first mistakes for the gardener.
No one who reads these narratives by the ordinary light of reason can
doubt that the simple story of Mark is nearest to the original fact or tra-
dition, and that the successive amplifications of one into two, men into
angels, the introduction of Peter, and finally of Peter and John, and the
miraculous vision of Mary Magdalene, have grown up about it If the
facts had really happened as described by Luke and John, no one could
have subsequently cut them down into the bald statement of Mark,
while the opposite process is what we know to be historically true in the
case of so many early Christian martyrs and medieval saints. It is the
clearest possible case of the application of the principal of the " Minimum
of Miracles. "
I may here remark, however, that, as I said before, the historical nu-
cleus is of minor importance compared with the fact that the belief in the
Resurrection did somehow come to be entertained, and became the chief
agent in the establishment and evolution of the new religion, and that
there is no reason to doubt that it was honestly entertained by sincere men,
who, if they did not see it with their bodily eyes, saw it with the eyes of
faith, and to whom visions, dreams, hallucinations, and subjective im-
pressions, were as much facts as objective realities.
In trying to disentangle the historical nucleus from these legends, the
best ray of light I can discover is afforded by the account of the riot in the
Temple, and assault on the traders who change money and who sold
doves and other objects of sacrifice. This is found in all the Gospels,
and could hardly be an invention, while if true it must have been followed
by immediate consequences. Prompt and stern repression must have been
exercised both by the Jewish and the Roman authorities.
We must recollect that their point of view would not be that of later
Christians, when the faith in the Divine character of Jesus had been
established for centuries, but that of contemporaries who knew nothing
of him but as the provincial prophet of an obscure sect To recur to the
simile of the Salvation Army, it would be as if a body of Salvationists.
I58 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
who had preached without interruption in some remote province of
Russia, came to Moscow, and in a fit of religious enthusiasm invaded the
cathedral, and broke the windows of the shopkeepers in its vicinity who
exhibited Ikons and other sacred objects of the Greek ritual. Undoubt-
edly the Metropolitan would complain to the Governor, and the leader
of the rioters would be summarily arrested, and if not crucified, sent to
Siberia.
Supposing this narrative to be true, it affords a natural explanation of
many of the incidents recorded. A disciple might well be bribed to dis-
close the hiding-place of his master ; the arrest might be made under the
circumstances described ; the disciples might disperse in alarm, and
Peter deny his connection with them ; Jesus might be taken before the
high priest, and by him referred to the Roman Governor. The incredible
legends about his trial and Pontius Pilate might resolve themselves into
the fact that Jesus had no defence to make, and was condemned, not on
theological grounds, or on the charge of having proclaimed himself as a
temporal king of the Jews, but on the simple charge of having been the
ringleader in a serious riot. Crucifixion would, as we know from nu-
merous instances in Josephus, have been a common Roman method of
dealing with such leaders, and its various incidents, such as the brutality
of the soldiers and the procession to Golgotha, are only what might be
expected. The historical part of the narrative can hardly be carried
farther than that Jesus came up to Jerusalem with a body of his followers,
that a riot took place in the Temple, and that he was arrested, tried, and
executed by the Roman Governor at the request of the Jewish authorities.
His entombment and the finding of the tomb empty rest, according to
Mark, who is the best authority, on the testimony of two women, Mary
Magdalene and Mary the mother of James, who are alone mentioned as
seeing where the body was laid, and of these two women and Salome, who
found the tomb empty, but, being afraid, said nothing at the time to any
one.
The next historical question is one of great importance. Did the
apostles, as directly asserted by Matthew, and indirectly by Mark, return
immediately to Galilee, where the belief in the Resurrection took form ;
or did they, as asserted with equal positiveness by Luke, remain at Jeru-
salem, where a series of startling miraculuous appearances took place ?
There can be little doubt in considering the Galilean tradition to be
the true one. Independently of the great weight of authority for consid-
ering the narrative of Mark, which is substantially the same as that of
Matthew, "to be the earliest and most authentic, it is inconceivable that, if
events had really occurred as described by Luke, any author or compiler
of any other Gospel should have ignored them and transferred the scene
to Galilee. However simple-minded such an author may have been, he
could not but have seen that he was weakening immensely the evidence
for the cardinal fact of the Resurrection, if, instead of referring to such
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 159
precise and definite statements of miracles, including the Ascension,
occurring in or near the capital city Jerusalem, in the presence of numer-
ous witnesses, many of whom survived to attest their truth twenty or
more years afterwards, he either omitted all mention of such occurrences
like Mark, or like Matthew transferred the scene to a remote province
and to a select few of his own disciples, and whittled down the evidence
to the vague statement that these went into the "mountain where
Jesus had appointed them," where "some worshipped him and some
doubted. "
Such a perversion of Luke's narrative might well have come from an
enemy of the new faith, but hardly from an apostle. On the other hand,
at a subsequent period, when the eye-witnesses were dead, and the orig-
inal records and traditions were obscured by time, and when the dog-
mas of the Resurrection and Divine nature of Jesus were firmly established,
nothing is more likely than that the birthplace of the new religion should
be transferred to Jerusalem, and the vague statements of occurrences in
Galilee should be transformed into a series of stupendous miracles
occurring at the sacred city in the presence of a large number of
witnesses.
The probabilities of the case also are all in favor of the return to
Galilee. The disciples had come to Jerusalem on a special pilgrimage,
to keep the Passover there, which was over ; there was no intimation of
any intention to remain, nor could they well have brought with them any
sufficient resources for a long stay. They were in mortal fear of the Jews,
and several of them had wives and families at home, to whom they would
hasten to return. If we could believe John, they not only returned, but
resumed their original occupation as fishermen ; but I lay little stress on
this, as the author of John, whoever he was, was evidently a man of con-
siderable literary attainments and dramatic genius, which he displayed in
in writing a Gospel, great parts of which may be most aptly described as
a theological romance.
But it is useless to dwell on details, as the conclusive argument is,
that Mark and Matthew could by no possibility have written as they did
if the course of events immediately after the death of Jesus had really
been, or even had been generally supposed to be, as described by Luke.
With the return of the disciples to Galilee the curtain falls on what
may be fairly called the historical drama of the life of Jesus, and we
enter on a region where all is conjecture and uncertainly. The belief in
the Resurrection evidently grew up in Galilee. It probably originated
with the women, for they are mentioned in all the accounts as the first
to have seen the risen Jesus, or to have brought a message from him or
from angels, and this is hardly likely to have been invented.
If at first they were afraid to tell any one, nothing is mor* natural than
t/.^>, when they found themselves in their own country and among
friends, their tongues would have been loosened, and they would begin
160 BEACU:\ LIGHTS Ob' SL'JEXCE.
to talk of the wonderful things they had seen, or fancied they had seen,
at Jerusalem.
The only thing certain is, that the belief in the Resurrection, once
started, grew rapidily, but that the various accounts of how it grew are
so vague and contradictory that it is hopeless to attempt to draw any cer-
tain conclusion respecting them. This will be apparent if we simply
place in juxtaposition the five different records which have come down to
us in the New Testament.
The most certain authentic record is that related by St. Paul in his
Epistle to the Corinthians. It is true that Paul was not an eye-witness,
or at all likely to have examined the evidence critically, and he places the
appearance to himself, which, whether supernatural or not, was obviously
in the nature of a vision, on precisely the same footing as the others.
Still it is good evidence that, some twenty years after the event, the
appearances he mentions were currently believed by the early Christian
community at Jerusalem.
They are six in number, and presumably, though he does not mention
the place, all at Jersualem, except that to himself on the road to Damas-
cus. Vis. :
I. To Peter.
a. To the twelve.
3. To above 500 brethren at once.
4. To James.
5. To all the apostles.
6. To himself.
Compare this with the other accounts, beginning with that of Mark,
which probably came direct from St Peter.
In the genuine Mark of the oldest manuscripts —
Miraculous appearances.
None. Only a message from a young man in white delivered to the two
Marys and Salome.
In the addition to Mark, introduced later than the date of the oldest
manuscripts —
Three, i. To Mary Magdalene.
2. To the two walking from Emmaus.
3. To the eleven.
i and 2 being distinctly stated not to have been believed by those to whom
they were told, at the time of their alleged occurrence.
According to Matthew —
Miraculous appearances. Two.
1. To Mary Magdalene and the other Mary at Jerusalem.
2. To the eleven on a mountain in Galilee, when some worshipped and
"some doubted."
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 161
According to Luke —
Miraculous appearances. Four— all at Jerusalem.
1. Messages of two men in dazzling apparel, probably angels, to the two
Marys, Joanna, and other women.
2. To the two disciples walking from Emmaus, who at first did not reCOg.
mze him.
3. To the eleven, when he eat the broiled fish.
4. The Ascension, when he was bodily taken up in a cloud to heaven In the
presence of the eleven.
According to John —
Miraculous appearances. Four — first three at Jerusalem, fourth in Galilee.
1. To Mary Magdalene alone, who at first took him for the gardener.
2. To the disciples sitting in a room with closed doors.
3. A second time to the disciples, to remove Thomas' doubts.
4. By the sea of Galilee, when Peter and six other disciples caught the mi-
raculous draught of fishes, when at first none of them recognized him.
And John expressly states that this last was the third appearance to the
disciples after Jesus had risen from the dead, thus excluding all others ex-
cept i, 2, and 3.
It will be remarked, that of the five miraculous appearances recorded
by St. Paul as being the current belief at Jerusalem twenty years after the
event, three, those to Peter, James, and above 500 brethren at once, are
not even mentioned in any other account. The latter can hardly be the
same as Luke's Ascension, which comes in its natural place as the con-
cluding scene of the great drama of the life and resurrection of Jesus, and
the spectators are confined to the eleven apostles.
Paul's No. 5, or second appearance to all the apostles, may refer either
to that described by John to convince Thomas, or to Luke's Ascension;
but Paul makes no mention either of Thomas or of the Ascension, which
would be very strange if the bodily Ascension to heaven was a cardinal
article of faith when Paul visited Jerusalem, which it must have been if
it really happened as described by Luke. There remains therefore onl)
the vague tradition that Jesus had appeared to the twelve, as to which th<
enumeration by Paul of five miraculous appearances receives the slightest
confirmation from any of the Gospels.
The Gospel accounts, again, vary so much that there is not a single
case in which any one is confirmed by any of the others. The nearest
approach to it is in the appearances to the woman ; but here John says
distinctly it was to Mary Magdalene alone; while Matthew says it was to
the two Marys; Luke, that the vision was to the two Marys, Joanna, and
other women, and was one of angels, and not of Jesus; Mark, that the
message was given to the two Marys and Salome by a young man, Evi-
dently the tradition as to the women was very vague,
162 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Again, the Ascension of Jerusalem, the greatest of all the miracles,
rests on Luke alone, and is negatived by the testimony of Matthew and
John, that the apostles returned to Galilee, and that the final scene, what-
ever it may have been, took place there; and still more significantly by
their silence and that of Mark, respecting an event which, if it took place
as described by Luke, must have been known and mentioned.
The appearance to the two disciples returning from Emmaus rests also
on the sole authority of Luke, and that to convince Thomas on that of
John. The miraculous draught of fishes is mentioned by John, and by
John alone. The appearance to the eleven is the only event mentioned
by three of the Evangelists, but of these, two place it in a room at Jeru-
salem, while one places it on a mountain in Galilee.
It is evident that it would be futile to attempt to form any historical
estimate from such accounts as these; they must be left, with miracles
generally, to the province of faith rather than that of reason. All we can
rationally infer is, that, as in the case of St. Thomas-a-Becket and so many
other saints and martyrs, the growth of miraculous myths was very rapid,
and that probably those records which contain the fewest of them must
date back very closely to the original events, and to the actors who took
a principal part in them. I have never been able to see any explanation
of the silence of the Gospel according to St. Mark respecting any miracu-
lous appearances after the Resurrection, and the brief and vague reference
to them in St. Matthew, except in the supposition that the account given by
Papias is true, and that they are really based on written notes taken down
by Mark from Peter, whose authority was sufficient to prevent later com-
pilers and editors from adding to them legends and traditions which were
floating about in the early Christian world, unsupported by any direct
apostolic authority.
Here then the curtain falls on any attempt to realize the historical ele-
ment in what Huxley so appropriately terms "the grand figure of Jesus as
it lies embedded in the primary strata of Christian literature." We see
him crucified at Jerusalem, his disciples returning to Galilee, and the faith
in his Resurrection growing up there, and soon becoming an assured
conviction, though with no agreement as to the facts on which it was
founded, and rapidly becoming surrounded with an atmosphere of myths
and miracles.
The next stage is even more obscure. We have no information as to
when and how the apostles returned to Galilee from Jerusalem, and
became, as we find them twenty years later, pillars of the Church there,
and leaders of a great religious movement. The Acts of the Apostles may
contain some authentic records of their proceedings at a later period, after
they had established themselves at Jerusalem, and exchanged the profession
of fisherman for that of missionaries of the new religion; but Luke's
account is discredited by the obvious fact that his earlier narrative of what
occurred during the first period of the Crucifixion is unhistorical. It is
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 163
clear that some time must have elapsed, and considerable changes taken
place at Jerusalem, during the interval between the departure of the
disciples for Galilee in mortal fear of the Jews, and their return to the
capital, where they seem to have preached publicly, and made numerous
converts, without any serious interference by the populace or the
authorities.
The narrative of this early period in the Acts, up to the date of Paul's
appearance on the scene, is full of improbabilities. The miracles
attributed to Peter, his deliverance from prison by angels, the gift of
tongues by the Holy Ghost, which did not enable Peter to dispense with
an interpreter, these and many other incidents have rather the air of
legends than of genuine history. They stand in marked contrast with the
naive and natural incidents recorded by Mark, how the crowd overflowed
into the street, how the bustle was such that they had no time to eat, how
Jesus slept through a night-squall which endangered the boat I can find
no solid historical ground until Paul met the pillars of the Church at
Jerusalem, except the general fact that the apostles returned there from
Galilee, preached publicly, made numerous converts, and that Peter
probably played a leading part. But with the death of Jesus and the
flight of his disciples to Galilee the first chapter ends, and the second opens
with the history of the early Christian Church, when the preoccupations
of the principal actors were doctrinal rather than historical, and we enter
on a new and wider phrase of religious controversies and metaphysical
speculations. It requires all the erudition of the most learned divines and
professors to find any clue through this labyrinth, and takes us far from
that which is the sole object of this essay — to endeavor to form some con-
ception of what may be the historical element in the records of the life
and death of the founder of the religion.
CHAPTER X.
SCEPTICISM AND PESSIMISM.
/""^ARLYLE was a great genius, but he was a dreadful croaker. Bar-
V-/' ren, brainless, soulless, faithless were the epithets he commonly
applied to the age in which he lived, and his favorite simile for his con-
temporaries was that of apes chattering on the shores of the Dead Sea.
In the case of Carlyle, the cause of this pessimism is not far to seek. He
suffered from chronic dyspepsia. If with the many other excellent quali-
ties of his peasant progenitors, he had inherited some share of the " dura
messorum ilia," and been able to eat his three square meals a day, and
feel all the better for it, his views of the age and of his contemporaries
would have been materially altered. He would have seen an age which
is one of the most marked chapters in the history of human evolution ;
an age of great events and marvellous progress, progress not material only,
but fully to an equal extent social, political, moral, and intellectual. The
shores of the Dead Sea would have blossomed with verdure, and instead
of chattering apes he would have seen human faces, ' ' men my brothers,
men the workers," with a great deal of human nature in them, good and
bad, weak and strong, joyous and sad, healthy and suffering, but on the
whole working up to a level which, if not necessarily happier, is at any
rate higher.
For such dyspeptic pessimists there is an excuse. Pessimism is prob-
ably as inevitably their creed as optimism is for the more fortunate mor-
tals who enjoy the "mens sana in corpore sano." But there are a large
number of our modern pessimists for whom no such excuse can be
pleaded.
There are the would-be superior persons, who think their claim to
superiority is best established by affecting a lofty air of superfine disdain
for the rude realities of real life ; the critics who, as Lord Beaconsfield
wittily says, are the failures ; the minor poets, painters, and writers who,
in their own opinion, would have been shining lights if their tapers had
burned in a more congenial atmosphere ; the prejudiced politicians and
aristocratic classes who feel that knowledge, and with it political power,
is passing over to the masses. And above all there are the orthodox
divines, and good but narrow-minded religious public, whose one idea of
religion is that it consists of adherence to traditional dogmas, and an un-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 165
broken belief in the truth of every word of the Bible as the inspired word
of God, and the ne plus ultra of human knowledge.
With prejudices such as these it would be a waste of time to attempt
argument; but there are a certain number of earnest and thoughtful men
who hold what are substantially the same views upon different grounds,
which deserve more careful consideration. They are not confined to
social swells, would-be superior persons and orthodox theologians, but
even a man of light and leading like Mr. Frederic Harrison can see no
salvation except in the exceedingly improbable contingency of the world
adopting the cult of humanity as evolved by the inner consciousness of
M. Auguste Comte. What they say is substantially this, Science is kill-
ing faith; scepticism and democracy are advancing on old creeds and old
institutions, like the lion of the desert, who in Tennyson's splendid
simile —
" Drawing nigher,
Glares at one who nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire."
Religion, they say, is becoming extinct, not only in the simple, old'
fashioned sense of belief in creeds and catechisms, but in the higher sense
of doubting the truth of the essential principles on which the Christian
scheme of theology, and ultimately all spiritual faith and all religions, de-
pend. A God who, according to one eminent Anglican divine, has been
"defecated to a pure transparency," and, according to another, removed
behind the primeval atoms and energies into an " original impress " act-
ing by unvarying laws, is, they tell us, practically equivalent to no God
at all, and instead of agnostics we ought to call ourselves atheists. With-
out a lively faith in such a personal, ever-present Deity, who listens to our
prayers, modifies the course of events, records our actions, and finally re-
wards or punishes us after death according to our deserts, there can be,
they say, no real religion; and they hold, and I think rightly hold, that
the only support for such a religion is to be found in the assumed inspira-
tion of the Bible and the divinity of Christ
Destroy these, and they think the world will become vulgar and ma-
terialized, losing not only the surest sanction of morals, but what is even
more important, the spiritual aspirations and tendencies which lift us
above the sordid realities of daily existence, and give poetry to the prose
of life. The Muses will take their flight with their sister Theology to
happier spheres; imagination, idealism, heroism, and originality will dis-
appear, leaving the world to a barren and prosaic sort of Chinese civiliza-
tion. In short, their forecast of human existence is very similar to that
which astronomers make of the planet upon which the human race live,
viz. , that as its inner heat radiates away in the course of ages, it will be-
come, like its satellite the moon, a barren and burnt-up cinder.
To these gloomy forebodings I venture to return a positive and categor-
ical denial; and to assert, on the contrary, that scepticism has been the great
i66 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
sweetener of modern life, has not only given us truer and juster views of
the realities of the universe, but has made us more liberal-minded, toler-
ant, merciful, charitable, than in the hard, cruel days of mediaeval super-
stition, and, in a word, that almost in exact proportion as we have drifted
away from the letter, we have approached nearer to the spirit of true
Christianity.
This, I am aware, will appear to many a strong assertion, and I must
be prepared to justify it by specific instances, which I proceed to do. But
first let me define what I mean by the term ' ' scepticism, " In a general
way it means allegiance to truth; the habit of mind which makes a man,
like a conscientious juryman, require evidence before he delivers his
verdict, and if the evidence is insufficient makes him return one of ' ' not
proven." Doubt of doubtful things is to such a one as sacred a duty as
affirmation of what is true and denial of what is false. His cardinal
maxim is that of Dr. Johnson, "Clear your mind of cant." Don't say
you believe when you really disbelieve, or only half believe, and try to
hide your misgiving from yourself and from the world by loudness of
asseveration or bitterness of denunciation.
But to this general meaning of the word scepticism a more limited
and precise significance has come to be attached, and it is commonly
used to denote disbelief in the inspiration of the Bible and the dogmas of
theological Christianity. In this sense I accept it, and proceed to join
issue with those who deny my assertion, that the world is a better place
to live in on account of scepticism.
I will begin by taking a specific instance — the treatment of lunatics.
Ever since the establishment of Christianity there has been a controversy
between doctors and theologians. Theologians, and the public gener-
ally, relying on texts of Scripture, held that lunacy, with its kindred
diseases of epilepsy and nervous affections, were caused by demons, or
evil and unclean spirits, taking bodily possession of the unfortunate
patients. Doctors, who for a long time alone represented the cause of
science, relying on fact and experiment, and the teachings of great phy-
sicians of pre-Christian times, such as Hippocrates and Galen, held that
such diseases were simply cases of pressure on the brain and over-wrought
nervous systems. This was held to be so contrary to the truths of re-
vealed religion, that doctors were looked upon as infidels of the worst
sort, and the saying became general, " Ubi tres medici duo Athei ; " atheist
being the polite appellation with which every one was pelted who dared
to appeal from Scripture to reason, and think for himself.
This radical divergence of view respecting the cause of lunacy led
naturally to a corresponding difference in the mode of treatment. From
the orthodox point of view the lunatic was a loathsome and repulsive
object, whose body, probably for sins of his own or of his ancestors, had
been taken possession of by an evil spirit. The only hope of cure was,
so to speak, to bully the demon out of him by portentous exorcisms in
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 167
ecclesiatical latin, and worse still, by ill-treatment amounting often to
the most horrible torture. Bedlam, with its row of raving madmen,
chained like wild beasts to the wall, was a type of the usual mode of
treatment.
Even such a great and good man as Sir Thomas More ordered ac-
knowledged lunatics to be publicly flogged ; and throughout rural Eng-
land there were many what were called bowsening-places, for curing
of madmen consisting of deep walled cisterns full of water, into which,
as Carew describes it in his Survey of Cornwall, "the lunatic was sud-
denly plunged by a blow on his breast, tumbling him headlong into the
pond, where a strong fellow, kept for the purpose, dragged him about
till he was quite exhausted ; " when he was taken to church, masses said
over him, and if he did not recover he was " bowsened again and again
while there remained any hope of life in him."
This simple picture of what was going on every day in remote country
parishes of England enables us to realize the practical consequences of
the theory of demoniacal possession, better perhaps than an enumeration
of the Papal bulls and sermons of eminent divines, which urged the civil
to unite with the ecclesiastical authorities and the Inquisition, in rooting
out the bond servants of Satan.
The medical men, on the other hand, of whom two out of every three
were reputed to be atheists, took the opposite view, that madness was
nothing but a form of brain disease, that its victims were rather objects
for compassion than for aversion, and that gentle treatment was far more
likely to effect cures than exorcisms and tortures.
Here, then, was a distinct issue joined between the Doctors of Divinity
and the Doctors of Medicine, between the " theologici " and the " athei."
If the question were to be decided by texts, the "theologici " had it all
their own way, and the " athei '' were nowhere. Nothing can be clearer
than that Jesus over and over again asserted the theory of demoniacal
possession. The demons knew him, he knew them, they conversed
together; and he was so well acquainted with their ways that he could
tell what sort could only be ejected by prayer and fasting. In the famous
instance of the Gadarene swine, a raging madman was cured by evicting
a legion of devils, and instead of leaving them homeless on the roadside,
as if they had been Irish peasants, allowing them to occupy as caretakers
the bodies of more than two thousand unfortunate pigs.
Nothing can be more explicit. Orthodox Christians were quite right
in struggling to the last against a theory of lunacy which was in such
direct contradiction with the express words of Scripture and of Jesus
himself. We cannot wonder at Bossuet preaching his two great sermons,
"Sur les Demons"; and John Wesley insisting that "most lunatics are
really demoniacs," and that "to give up witchcraft is to give up the Bible,
and to take ground against the fundamental truths of theology."
There cannot be a clearer illustration of the logical strength of Dr.
168 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Wace's formula, that if you believe in the inspiration of the Bible and in
the Divine nature of Jesus, you must believe these things, or make him
out to be a liar — I may add, a liar of the worst description, for if he were
Divine and Omniscient, he must have known not only that he was
fostering a delusion, but that this delusion would be in future ages the
cause of misery and torture to thousands of the most helpless of the
human race. But I reply, not without some little tone of indignation,
• ' It is you, not I, who makes Jesus out to be a liar; it is your assump-
tion of Divine inspiration and Divine nature which defaces the pure and
noble image of the Man Jesus, and places us in the alternative of either
believing incredible things, or making him out to be an utterer of false-
hoods. As a man no taint of fasehood or insincerity attaches to him in
admitting that he used the language and shared the mistakes of his age
and country. But as a God there is ; and a God who teaches theories
which are demonstrably false, and which lead to barbarous and revolting
practices, is an incarnation not of goodness, but of evil. "
For the theory of demoniacal possession is demonstrably false. If,
instead of appealing to texts, the appeal is made to facts, the verdict is
reversed; it is the " athei" who hold the field, and the "theologici " who
are nowhere.
Which cure or alleviate the larger number of cases of lunacy — exorcisms
and tortures, or gentle treatment ? Which is most in harmony with the
best instincts of human nature — love, charity, mercy, and compassion,
Hanwell, with its harmless and happy inmates, or Bedlam, with its row
of chained wild beasts ? If a doctor of Divinity says of a lunatic that he
is possessed by a devil, while a Doctor of Medicine says he is suffering
from a lesion of the brain; if the lunatic dies, and his brain is dissected,
which do you find, the devil or the lesion ? Nay, has not medical science
gone so far that you can often predict the exact spot where the pressure
on the brain is taking place, and by an operation remove the tumor, and
restore the patient to reason ?
If these things are true, and if the modern treatment of madness is
really an improvement on the old one, it is quite clear that we are indebted
for the change to scepticism, for it was impossible as long as the authority
of Scripture was held to be the supreme tribunal, superior to fact and
reason, and whose dicta it was impious to dispute. Montaigne, Hume,
Voltaire, and a host of what used to be called infidel writers were the
precursors of Pinet and Tuke; and with Galileo, Newton, and the triumphs
of modern science, created the purer sceptical and scientific atmosphere
of the present age, in which the masters of mediaeval theology simply die
out like the Saurians of the secondary period, leaving a few fossil remains
and degenerate descendants.
Witchcraft affords another test case in which the humanizing influence
of scepticism is most apparent Down to a comparatively recent period
the belief in witchcraft was universal, and whole hecatombs of miserable
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 169
victims were sacrificed to a superstition which is no less barbarous and
degrading than that which exists to the present day in Dahomey, and
among the cannibals of Central Africa. Why? Because the texts of
what was supposed to be the inspired Word of God explicitly asserted the
reality of witchcraft, and contained the command — " Ye shall not suffer a
witch to live."
The case is the same as that of the belief in demoniacal possession as
the cause of lunacy, except that the treatment of witches was even more
cruel than that of lunatics, being founded more on texts of the Old Testa-
ment, dating back to a barbarous age. It was a form of cruelty also for
for which Protestants were even more responsible than Catholics, its worst
excesses occurring in Protestant countries after the Reformation. In Ger-
many alone, it is estimated that in the great age of witch-burning which
followed that event, more than 100,000 persons perished by an excruciat-
ing death in the course of a single century.
On a smaller scale, one of the worst and latest out breaks of the witch-
burning epidemic occurred in Puritan Massachusetts at the close of the
seventeenth century, incited and fanned into a flame by the efforts of the
Mathers and other leading Calvinistic divines. Hundreds of innocent
men and women of good characters were tortured into confessions, or con-
victed on the testimony of private enemies and professional witch-hunters,
and perished in the flames, as was clearly proved when the epidemic
subsided, and reason began to resume its sway, though divines like Cotton
Mather held out to the last, and groaned over the evil spirit of unbelief
which had thwarted the glorious work of freeing New England from
demons.
Nobody now believes in witchcraft, and foolish old women and hys-
terical young ones may talk as much nonsense as they like without fear
of being burned alive. Surely the world is the better for this ; but how
has it been brought about ? Not that the texts have become more am-
biguous, but that people have ceased practically to believe in them. I
say practically, for there are a good many who still retain a sort of half-
belief, and who would be shocked either to confess that the Bible is not
inspired, or to say, with John Wesley, that "to give up witchcraft is to
give up the Bible, " but as the Ichthyosauri died out, and left harmless
lizards as their successors in the purer air of the Tertiary era ; so this,
with other barbarous superstitions, has lost all real hold on the minds and
consciences of those who, happily for themselves, live in the atmosphere
of a scientific and sceptical age.
If the idolatry of Scriptural texts has caused so much human misery in
the case of lunacy and witchcraft, the same idoltary, expanded from texts
into dogmatical creeds and confessions, has been even more destructive
in the case of heresy. Heresy, or the holding of different beliefs from
those of the Church, is either a harmless and necessary incident in the use
of human reason, or it is an act of pernicious and contagious wickedness
170 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
which it is the duty of the State to aid the Church in stamping out
This depends on whether we do or do not believe the Creeds. If we
believe the Athanasian Creed, which contains the fullest summary of the
articles of the Catholic faith, and which is still retained in the Anglican
ritual, all men will "without doubt perish everlastingly" who do not be-
lieve in every single article of that remarkable Creed, What right have
we to rail against Torquemada, or blame Calvin for burning Servetus, if
we really believe this to be true ? They were simply carrying out, con-
scientiously and logically, the piinciples to which all orthodox Christians
profess to adhere. Surely if it is right to stamp out the cattle plague, it
must be still more right to stamp out a moral cattle plague which is em-
inently contagious, and which beyond all doubt causes those who contract
the disease "to perish everlastingly." There is no possible answer to
this, except that we do not believe the Creeds ; that we feel the burning
of men for differences of opinion to be cruel, and the suppression of free-
dom of thought to be mischievous. In short, that our attitude has
become that of the poet who says —
" There is more life in honest doubt,
Believe me, than in half the Creeds."
If this is not "scepticism," I do not know what the meaning of the
word is.
We live, fortunately, in an age when scepticism has so effectually killed
the class of ideas which led to persecutions for heresy, that we have
almost forgotten what the Inquisition and the fires of Smithfield really
were. From first to last, hundreds of thousands of victims perished in
horrible tortures for the crime of thinking for themselves. There is hardly
a man of light and leading of the present century who would not have
been sent to the stake if Spain had conquered England, and the integrity
of the Catholic faith had been enforced by the civil power, or if Calvin
had ruled in England as he did in Geneva. Darwin, Huxley, and
Herbert Spencer would certainly have been burned ; Carlyle, George
Eliot, Byron, and Shelly would have shared the same fate ; and Dean
Stanley, Bishop Temple, and the whole Broad Church would have been
in imminent peril. Spain, where the Inquistion so long reigned supreme,
is an instance not only of the devilish cruelty which a misplaced relig-
ious earnestness can inspire, but of the inevitable political and social
decrepitude which follow from successful attempts to stamp out freedom
of thought.
Religious wars were only an outcome on a larger scale of the ideas
which inspired religious persecutions. At bottom it was a firm conviction
by those who held one set of opinions, that those who held different ones
were miscreants, enemies of the human race, who ought to be forcibly
converted or exterminated. Given the conviction, the persecutions and
wars followed as a matter of course, or rather of conscience. Destroy it,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 171
and the persecutions and wars cease. We no longer persecute and go to
war in the name of religion. Why ? Because the age has become too
liberal, enlightened, tolerant, and humane. And why has it become so ?
Because scepticism has triumphed over orthodoxy. That the age has be-
come more sceptical, and that faith in the old hard-and-fast lines of ortho-
dox religion has declined, are facts which all acknowledge, though some
deplore. It is evident, moreover, that these two facts are not merely
concurrent, but stand to one another in the relation of cause and effect
It is a case not merely of post hoc but propter hoc. Voltaire, who may
be taken as the representative of the literary scepticism of the last century,
was inspired in his attacks on orthodoxy by his indignation at one of the
last " autos-de-fe, " or acts of faith, in the burning of a heretic. His shafts
of ridicule wounded the monster to death more effectually perhaps than
could have been done by solid arguments. The name of Darwin, again,
may be taken as the representative of the scientific scepticism which has
effected the greatest revolution of thought in the history of the human
race, and substituted the idea of original impress, acting by unvarying
law, for that of secondary supernatural interferences with the course of
Nature. No educated man any longer believes in the sense in which our
forefathers believed the Bible, and in which Mahometans still believe in
the Koran. The assured faith in the Bible, as an ultimate and exhaustive
record written by God's finger, has vanished never to return, and has quite
lost its power as a practical factor in the life of nations. We retain our
affection and reverence for it, from old associations, and as containing
many beautiful and excellent things, but we no longer make it an idol.
We criticise it freely, and find it to be a collection of various writings of
various ages, bv unknown or doubtful authors, and containing, with much
that is of the highest truth and highest interest, much that bears evident
traces of the ignorance, superstition, ferocity, and immorality of the rude
and barbarous ages over which its traditions extend. No one now would
think of appealing to every single text of Scripture as an ultimate
tribunal from which there was no appeal, or, like the Caliph Omar,
burning all the other books in the world because, if they agreed with
the Bible they were superfluous, and if they disagreed with it, mis-
chievous.
A better proof cannot be afforded of the extent to which ecclesiastical
religion has ceased to be a motive power in human affairs, than by a
reference to the great wars of the last half century. By an irony of fate,
the first great exhibition in Hyde Park, which was thought to have in-
augurated an era of peace, has been, like opening the temple of Janus,
the signal for a series of the greatest wars recorded in history ; wars great
not only in the magnitude of the scale on which they were waged, but in
the momentous importance of the issues involved. In all these w ars the
element of religion was entirely absent, and in its place was supplied by
the new element of Nationality. The net result of these wars has been
172 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
the consolidation of a great Germany, a great Italy, and a great United
States. Everywhere people of the same race, speaking the same language,
and having a common literature and common interests, however broken
up and divided into fragments by internal dissensions or foreign foes,
have tended with irresistible force to consolidate themselves into great
nations. Even the weaker races — the Greeks, Roumanians, Servians,
and Bulgarians — have felt the same impulse, and the half-satisfied aspira-
tions of the Eastern Christians constitute the peril of Europe, and threaten
us with the impending shadow of another war. Nearer home, Irish na-
tionality is the root of our Irish difficulty. We have taught the Irish
people to read and write, we have given them a free Press and Parlia-
mentary institutions, and the result is that they claim an increase of self-
government and recognition of their separate nationality which we
hesitate to concede, because we fear that it would destroy the old system
of English ascendancy, and subvert many of the settled principles of
English law, especially as regards the tenure of land and the rights and
duties of landlords. If we have saved our colonial empire, it is only by
conceding with the freest hand to Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and
South Africa all that we once contended for, and giving them the fullest
scope to work out their destinies as independent communities, attached
to the mother country by ties of common interest and affections, rather
than by the hard-and-fast lines of superior force.
Now in all these great movements it is remarkable that ecclesiastical
religion has not only been an appreciable factor, but that in many cases
they have gone on in the teeth of whatever influence it might be supposed
to have remaining. In Italy, the head-quarters of ecclesiastical authority,
the Pope, though still the venerated head of millions of Catholics, has
been utterly powerless when opposed to the idea of Italian nationality.
The Catholics of South Germany fought as stoutly at Gravelotte and
Sedan, shoulder to shoulder with the Protestants of the North, to make a
great Germany, as their ancestors did under Tilly and Wallenstein against
the ancestors of the same Protestants to secure the ascendancy of their
respective Creeds. Austria has to forget the traditions of the Thirty
Years' and the Seven Years' wars, and ally herself to heretic Prussia.
France has for more than a century been intensely national, and very
little religious. Even in Spain a dominant ecclesiasticism died out with
the embers of the Carlist insurrections, and Spanish colonies in far-off
Mexico, Buenos Ayres, and Chili are entering on a career of progress and
prosperity almost exactly as they have emancipated themselves from the
rule of priests and adopted modern ideas.
Has this change from religious to national wars been on the whole
beneficial ? One thing is certain, that war among civilized states has
become infinitely more humane. Compare the picture by a military
correspondent, of the advance of the Crown Prince's army through
France, with the details of the Thirty Years' War, as given in Schiller's
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 173
history. In the one case yon see French peasant girls standing at the
doors of their cottages to see the brilliant staff ride by, and exchanging
nods and smiles with the German soldiers ; in the other you have Tilly's
Pappenheimers tossing heretic babies on the points of their pikes at the
sack of Magdeburg.
The most signal instance, perhaps, of the humanizing influence of
modern ideas is afforded by the action of the United States after the close
of the great Civil War. A war of unexampled magnitude, costing tens
of thousands of lives and millions of money, had been fought out with
unexampled determination. The vanquished had begun the war, and in
the view of the victors were rebels, but not a single hair of their heads
was touched after the contest was over, not a single political prisoner was
brought to trial. Jeff Davis was not hanged on a sour apple-tree, and the
leading generals and politicians on either side for the most part returned
quietly to civil occupations. I sometimes wonder what an historian
writing a century hence will think of this record, compared with our
English one of twenty-five members of Parliament imprisoned as common
felons for political offences. To pursue this further would, however,
lead me too far towards the burning region of contemporary politics, and
I content myself by drawing this conclusion. If the spirit of the age be
really sceptical and democratic, as all admit and many deplore, then scep-
ticism and democracy must be included among those "ingenuas artes"
of which the Roman poet says —
" Emollit mores nee sinit esse feros.*'
Nor is it in war onfy that milder manners and a more humane and
charitable spirit have accompanied, if they have not been created by, the
development of these two great principles of modern society. The air is
full of projects, visionary or otherwise, which are all based on the spirit,
if not on the letter, of true Christianity, of assisting the poor and suffering,
and sweetening the conditions of life. Bismarck and the German Emperor
adopt large schemes of State socialism, and aim at a universal insurance
of workmen against poverty and old age. Trades Unions, Provident
Societies and Savings Banks do the same on an ever-widening scale in
English-speaking communities. The old harsh principles of English law,
which always sided with the strong against the weak, with man against
woman, with landlord against tenant, with capital against labor, are
being broken down in all directions. The rigid conclusions of
political economy are no longer accepted as axioms. The duties of
property, so long ignored, are coming into formidable antagonism with
its rights.
So far from impairing the sanctions of morality, moral considerations
are coming more and more to the front in this age of material progress.
Slavery, long sanctioned by Bible texts and immemorial usage, offends
the public conscience and disappears. We began by burning heretics,
I74 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
burning softened into boycotting, and finally this last vestige of intoler-
ance has disappeared, and we live in an England where,
" Girt by friends or foes,
A man may speak the thing he will."
That worH-old though newly-named institution, the "boycott," is no
longer applied to differences of opinion, but confined to conspicuous
offenders against the unwritten laws of a nation's conscience; to respond-
ents in divorce courts, exceptionally bad landlords, and heartless profli-
gates. The poor are always with us, but we no longer pass them by on
the other side like the Pharisee, muttering our ecclesiastical texts and
economical formulas. We feel for them, our consciences are touched,
a daily diminishing number ignore them, and an increasing number try,
in their respective spheres, to assist them by active effort, or sympathize
with those who do.
The truth is, that morals are built on a far surer foundation than that
of Creeds, which are here to-day and gone to-morrow. They are built
on the solid rock of experiences and of the "survival of the fittest,"
which, in the long evolution of the human race from primeval savages,
have by "natural selection" and "heredity" become almost instinctive.
Every day of civilized society, working in an atmosphere of free dis-
cussion and free thought, tends to make the primary rules of morality
more and more instinctive, and to extend and widen their application.
The other charge against the spirit of the age is still more easily
refuted. It is said that scepticism has killed spiritualism, and stripped
life of its poetry and higher aspirations, while democracy has reduced
everything to a dead level of prosaic mediocrity. Those who say so see
the reflection of their own souls. The man must be indeed hopelessly
commonplace and prosaic, who fails to recognize the grandeur, splendor,
and dramatic interest of the events of the age in which we live, and the
striking originality of its principal characters. Was there ever in classic
or mediaeval times such a tragic drama of human life as is afforded by the
career of Louis Napoleon. See him in his early years a dreamy youth,
dabbling in obscure conspiracies, and musing over vague ideas and des-
tinies connected with the name he bore. Then comes the attempt at
Strasburg; the life in London, half Bohemian, half on the outskirts of
fashionable society; the ludicrous fiasco at Boulogne; the romantic escape
from the prison at Ham. The curtain falls on the first act, and when it
rises we find the obscure adventurer clearing the streets of Paris with
grape-shot, imprisoning all that is noblest and most respectable in the
public life of France, and finally firmly seated on the Imperial throne.
He proclaims the Empire to be peace, and he plunges France into four
great wars, the Crimean, the Italian, the Mexican, and the Franco-
German, all alike senseless in the view of any possible French interest
He inaugurates the system of armed peace and excessive armaments, and
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 175
for quarter of a century is the disturbing element in European politics.
The attitude of all other nations is, to use the expression of the witty
Frenchman, that of spaniels watching the eye of their master at the
Tuileries. Then comes the collapse, and in the closing scene we see a
wretched creature driving out in a hack carriage from Sedan to give up
his sword to the German Emperor, and sitting on a wooden chair with
Bismarck, in front of a little wayside cabaret, to discuss the terms of the
surrender as prisoners of war of his last army of 120,000 men. What
must have been the emotions on that fatal day, hid under the mask of an
imperturable countenance and an eternal cigar. And all the time the
man was essentially the same. Kind-hearted, easy-going, utterly unprin-
cipled, vague, moony, idealistic; easily influenced by those about him,
and twisted round his finger by a strong and practical nature like that of
Bismarck. As his best counsellor and most intimate friend, the shrewd,
cynical, polished, and worldly De Morny, once said to me, when the
Emperor was in the height of his power, "The world will some day dis-
cover that the man has a better heart and a worse head than it gives him
credit for."
I have mentioned Bismarck. There is a man indeed, a man such as
Europe has not produced since Luther and Cromwell. Think of his
career from a wild student, a provincial Tory Squire, training himself by
degrees to be first a diplomatist, and then a statesman ; startling the
starched representatives of the German Confederation at Frankfort by
lighting his cigar without the permission of the Austrian Envoy, with the
same cool courage and happy audacity which led him to Sadowa and
Sedan, and now the founder of the German Empire, the great Chancellor,
the arbiter of the peace of Europe. What made him what he is ? His
solid strength of character, his sagacious sincerity, his keen insight, glanc-
ing through the outward show of things into their real essence, and
above all, his indomitable courage, which never quailed before hostile
parliaments or vacillating emperors, and led him to stake his head
on the success of the Prussian needle-gun and Prussian discipline,
against the veteran legions of Austria and the showy prestige of imperial
France.
At the opposite pole from Bismarck is our own "Grand Old Man."
Opinions may differ as to Mr. Gladstone's policy, and whether his power-
ful personality is an element for good or for evil in English history ; but
no one who is not a purblind political partisan, can deny that, whether
for good or evil, he is a grand and striking figure. Where will you
find a man of such universal attainments, wide sympathies, and per-
suasive eloquence ? Where look for an intellect which combines such
scholastic subtlety with such argumentative power, such a grasp of details,
such juvenile energy, and such a fervid white heat of passionate con-
viction. What a rich and complex nature must it be, which has in
it the evolution from the ecclesiastically-minded Oxford student who
176 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
was the rising hope of the Tories, to the great financier of Free Trade,
the disestablisher of the Irish Church, the statesman who is at the head
of all Liberal movements, the man whose eager sympathies side with lib-
erty and with the masses "of our own flesh and blood," from Ireland
to Italy. His mind is like the steam-hammer, which can either crack
nuts, or mould masses of stubborn iron, and even in extreme old age
there are no signs that his natural vigor has abated.
There is another striking personality of our times, whom, at the risk
of offending political prejudices, I should like to mention, the "uncrowned
king of Ireland " — Parnell. I am accustomed to call him the Irish Bis-
marck, for in many of his essential traits he resembles the iron Chancellor.
Here again I pass no judgment as to his aims and policy, but look
simply at the man and his career. What a career it has been ! A young
man with no special gifts of position or fortune, little likely as a Protest-
ant and a landlord to enlist the sympathies of the Irish race, gifted with
no showy qualities of oratory, the very antipodes of the former great Irish
leader, O'Connell, silent, self-restrained, reserved, I may almost say, un-
social. I recollect this young man when I first knew him in the House
of Commons, an obscure member even of his own Home Rule party ; one
of a little knot of five or six Irish members, who thought Isaac Butt's
leadership too tame, and whose ruling idea was to force the attention of
the House to Irish grievances by organizing obstruction. They succeeded,
and soon became very conspicuous, and intensely obnoxious. Step by
step Parnell came to the front, and first rivalled and then displaced Shaw
in the leadership of the Irish party left vacant by the death of Butt Like
Carnot he organized victory, and even more than Bismarck, forged his
own weapons as the strife went on. For Bismarck had his sturdy em-
peror, his admirable Prussian army, and his great strategist, Von Moltke,
made to his hand ; Parnell had nothing but what he made himself. His
strength of character, practical sagacity, and far-seeing insight, by degrees
gave him an ascendancy which secured him the support of the great
majority of the Irish race at home and abroad, enabled him to wean them
from impossible dreams of rebellion and revenge, to the practical policy
of constitutional agitation ; and finally has placed the return of some
eighty-five out of one hundred and five members for Ireland in the hollow
of his hand, and what was apparently more hopeless, has silenced the
conflicting jealousies and interests which, in former days, marred all Irish
movements, and drilled these eighty-five members into a compact body,
acting as one man, under the control and advice of their leader. He has
thus, almost single-handed, advanced Home Rule from being a dream
as wild as the restoration of the Heptarchy, to be the burning question of
practical politics. He has got four-fifths of Ireland, two-thirds of Scot-
land and Wales, and the bulk of the Liberal party in England on his side,
and few dispassionate observers can doubt that, whether for good or evil,
the realization of the main features of his policy has become a question
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 177
of more or less, and of sooner or later, rather than of absolute and per-
manent rejection.
This is a good deal for an undergraduate of Magdalen to have done
before he has passed the meridian of middle life, and to have done it for a
a hopeless minority, an unpopular cause, and a down-trodden race, by
sheer force of individual character. Of the epithets which their contem-
porary age has attached to these three leading personalities, the " Great
Chancellor," the "Grand Old Man," and the " Uncrowned Irish King,"
I think there is little doubt that the Macaulay of a future century will find
them to have been justly applied, and that without reference to the suc-
cess or failure of their work which is in the womb of the future.
It would not be right to close the list of the great political personalities
of the day without saying one word of Abraham Lincoln, one of the
greatest, as he is certainly one of the most original and interesting of
modern statesmen. Wise, far-seeing, steadfast, simple, and noble, as
Washington, he had a fund of genial humor, and a touch of the quaint-
ness and eccentricity of the old Illinois rail-splitter, which endears his
memory to the affectionate respect of all classes of English-speaking
men, and makes him a bright example for all time of the height of
heroism to which a self-taught working-man of the new democracy may
attain.
If we turn from what may be called the epic of modern history to its
romance, what figure can be more original and interesting than that of
Lord Beaconsfield. What a career, from a second-rate novelist and dandy
about town, seeking notoriety by resplendent small clothes, to become the
minister of a great country, the favorite of sovereigns, the superior of
Dukes, the champion and hero of a proud aristocracy and of a great
historical party. And yet, as the novel of his last years shows, essentially
the same man throughout. Brilliant, audacious, a master of phrases,
and believing in them as stronger than facts. A sort of glorified Gil Bias,
or hero of a Spanish comedy ; arid yet with qualities which endeared
him to friends, captivated the popular imagination, and enabled him to
play his part to perfection in all the varied vicissitudes of his extraordi-
nary career. Infinite cleverness, infinite courage, infinite self-possession,
and at bottom a genial and artistic temperament, which made him always,
whatever else he might be, a finished gentleman. No one ever heard of
him, whether as leader of a Government, or as leader of an Opposition,
doing a coarse, vulgar, or ungentleman-like thing. He never lost his
temper ; he fought, like a courtly duellist of one of Dumas' romances,
with the keen rapier of polished sarcasm and pungent epigram, but he
fought fairly and left the coarser work, the flouts and jeers, to titled subor-
dinates. His ideas, if vague and visionary, were always grandiose, and
according to his lights, imperial and patriotic. He had no prejudges,
and although the leader of bucolic squires and favored guests of -iMOrt
drawing-rooms, he was fully convinced that Toryism couid only survive
I78 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
by becoming democratic. Here surely was a product of the age as piqu-
ant and original as any to be met with in the romance of history.
I turn gladly to the serener regions of science and art Here also,
while we find everywhere the influence of the spirit of the age, we find
everywhere genius and originality of character. It is the age of science ;
its marvellous triumphs have given man an undreamt-of command over
the forces of nature, and revolutionized his ideas both of the material and
of the spiritual universe. But what I wish principally to remark for the
present purpose, these triumphs have been achieved, not by a mechanical
process of second-rate specialists working each in his separate groove like
wheels and pulleys in the mill of progress, but by a succession of great
men, worthy leaders of great events. Take Darwin, the greatest of all.
Who in the school-boy scolded by his master for wasting the time which
should have been devoted to hexameters in trying rude chemical experi-
ments and collecting beetles, could have foreseen the great philosopher
who was to revolutionize the whole course of modern thought ? At col-
lege he was, like many another careless student, thinking more of
partridge-shooting than of books, and looking forward to taking orders,
and becoming a college don, or vicar of a country parish. But his beetle-
hunting saved him, it brought him into connection with men of science
at the University like Henslow, and the merest accident led to his being
appointed as naturalist to accompany Captain Fitzroy in the exploring
voyage of the Beagle.
He saw new lands and new races of men, and his mind, rapidly
expanding, acquired a storehouse of new facts and ideas which were the
germ of his future greatness. See him next a martyr to ill-health in his
quite cottage in a secluded Kentish village, thinking out his ideas, trying
simple experiments, clipping out extracts, and patiently collecting infor-
mation, until one day he woke to find himself famous, and to have his
name associated with the greatest revolution ever known in man's concep-
tion of the universe. In less than forty years ' ' Darwinism, " that is evo-
lution by unvarying law, superseded " Supernaturalism," or the theory of
a world created and maintained by a succession of secondary interfer-
ences, as completely as the Copernican theory superseded that of Ptolemy.
Before he died he could see all educated thought, all men of light and
leading in all countries, converts, if not to all the details, to the leading
ideas and facts of his world-wide theory. And what a simple, noble
character he was. Patient, candid, magnanimous, modest, loving and
beloved in all intercourse with family and surroundings down even to his
little dog, faithful friend, single-minded worshipper of truth, one might
say that, apart from his fame, here was a model man of the nineteenth
century, and if scepticism can give us more like him we may well be con-
tent to take what the outcome of a sceptical age has in store for us with-
out much apprehension.
And if Darwin was the Napoleon of science, what a brilliant array of
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 179
marshals marched under him at the head of its various divisions — men
not of one idea and cramped intellects, but large-minded men of genius
and originality, men such as Lyell, Huxley, Herbert Spencer, and a host
of others.
Take Huxley as a typical instance. If he had never made a discovery
in science, he would go down to posterity as the greatest master of style
and best writer of English prose in the whole range of modern literature.
To a wit keen as that of Voltaire he adds a far greater range of accurate
knowledge and force of pungent logic; his grave irony and undercurrent
of genuine humor are delicious, and every sentence goes straight to the
mark like a rifle-bullet. In controversy he is like a sun-god shooting his
arrows of light through the thickest cuirass of ignorance and prejudice.
Given something to say on a theme of science or philosophy, and I know
of no writer, past or present, who can say it as well as Huxley.
Of all these, and of the hundred other names which might easily be
added to the list of generals and captains of the army of modern science,
it may safely be said, that as a rule they lived true, simple, and noble
lives, giving no cause of scandal or offence to the world, and showing that
the high-priests of truth need not fear a comparison as regards character
and conduct with those of any stereotyped and formalized religious creed
or caste.
The remaining complaint of the pessimists, that the world is becoming
uninteresting and prosaic, is easily disposed of. I reserve for another
essay what I have to say as to the creeds of the great poets, but for the
present it is enough to ask whether Byron and Shelley were believers or
sceptics, and whether their poems show any falling-off in the poetic fac-
ulty ? Swinburne, whatever we may think of him otherwise, has the gift
of word-music and of brilliant imagination in an eminent degree ; and
Victor Hugo, though too turgid and rhetorical for an English taste,
strikes a powerful lyre whose chords resound loudly in the souls of his
sceptical countrymen. Above all, Tennyson, the great poet of modern
thought, attains a height of inspiration which has been seldom if ever
equalled. I care not what his creed may be, but he is thoroughly the
man of his age, imbued with its science, from which many of his noblest
similes are drawn, and a sharer in its strength and weakness, its hopes
and fears, its grandest aspirations, and its blankest misgivings. The
stanzas in In Memoriam, which conclude with the solemn words, "Be-
hind the Veil," are the profoundest expression of the deepest thoughts of
the most earnest minds of the nineteenth century.
In fiction, we have a hundred writers and a thousand readers, of works
of a fairly high standard of excellence, for one of former centuries. Noth-
ing gives me more hope for the future of that inevitable democracy which
is advancing on us with such rapid steps, than the multitude of standard
works which are circulated in cheap editions. Shakespeare, Walter Scott
Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, as well as works on history, philosophy,
180 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
and art, like those of Macaulay, Carlyle, and Ruskin, are published in
ever increasing numbers and at ever lower prices. Who reads them ?
They must be bought by hundreds of thousands, or it would not pay to
publish them, even in pirated editions like those of America. They must
be read by millions who never read before, but who now read with intelli-
gent interest for education and self-culture.
If we turn to painting we find the same phenomenon. It is becoming
more popular and more democratic. Prints and chromo-lithographs hang
on the walls of every cottage ; illustrations, often admirable, like those of
the modern school of wood-cut, adorn the pages of pictorial newspapers
and magazines, and have become almost a necessary accompaniment of
every work of wide circulation. And how has this affected the higher class
of painting ? Has it become more prosaic ? Distinctly the reverse, it is
far more poetical; that is to say it aims far more at expressing the real
essence and typical spirit of the varying moods, whether of external or of
human nature. The contrast between the modern French school and that
of conventional classicism affords the best instance for my present purpose,
for France is par excellence the country whose scepticism and democracy
may be suppossed to have killed poetry. Compare a landscape of Corot's
with a landscape of Poussin, which is most poetical ? Or take Millet, who
has caught for all time the type of the true French peasant, with his simple
or even sordid surroundings, his narrow horizon as he bends with an almost
ferocious intensity of labor over his paternal clods, yet illumined by
gleams of humble poetry, as in the Angelus, or of pure domestic affection,
as in Teaching the Baby to Walk. Surely this is real poetry, and worth a
thousand of the academic pictures of the school of David.
In the English school of art, the same tendency is manifest All the
great modern masters aim at representing types and ideas rather than
traditional conventionalities or prosaic realities. Thus Millais' North-
West Passage and Boyhood of Raleigh give us the essence of that spirit of
maritime adventure which has made Britannia rule the waves; Faed's pic-
tures of humble Scottish life are as tender and true as if they were poems
of Burns transferred to canvas; Peter Graham, Brett, and Hook paint the
sea as it never was before painted, in all its moods of strength, repose,
and of the joyous freshness of its rising flood. And so of a host of others.
They aim at and often succeed in painting pictures which are really poems,
true and touching phases of human characters, types of nature which
speak to the varying emotions of the human soul, and their masterpieces
find a ready response in the hearts of millions.
All this does not look like the advent of a drab-colored age of prosaic
mediocrity ; or as if the fresh bracing breeze of modern science and free
thought, sweeping through the confined air of mediaeval cloisters, were
going to do otherwise than sweeten and purify the atmosphere, and
make the blue of heaven more blue, the grass greener, and the earth, on
the whole, a better and more genial place for man to live in. Blow,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 181
brave North-Wester ! sweeping over the free and boundless ocean of
Truth, chilling to worn-out creeds and decrepit superstitions, but filling
the lungs with ozone, bracing the nerves and brightening the eye.
" Who loves not knowledge, who shall rail
Against her beauty ? may she mix
With men and prosper, whc shall fix
Her pillars; may her cause prevail."
CHAPTER XI.
CREEDS OF GREAT POETS.
WHAT is a poet, and what is a great poet ? A'poet I take to be one
whose nature is exceptionally susceptible to impressions from
the surrounding universe, especially those of a character which comes
within the domain of art, and who unites with this a certain musical
faculty and command of language, which enables him to translate these
impressions into apt and harmonious verse. The poet's brain may be
compared to a photographic plate which is extremely sensitive and reten-
tive of images which flash across it ; or to a delicate ./Eolian harp which
vibrates responsive to harmonies of nature, unheard, or only half-heard,
by the coarser fibres of ordinary mortals.
This of itself, where it exists in an exceptional degree, may make a
pleasing or even a considerable poet, but to make a great poet something
more is required. To this fine susceptibility and musical nature must be
added a great intellect; an intellect capable of casting flashes of insight into
the varying phases of human character, and the deepest problems of man's
relations to the universe; an intellect so imbued with the spirit of the age
and abreast of the knowledge of the day as to be able to sum them up in a
few glowing lines which embody their inmost essence. Such poets are
extremely rare. Of the ancient world, Homer, ^schylus, Sophocles,
and Euripides of the Greeks, Lucretius and Virgil of the Romans, still
shine as stars of the first magnitude among the " stars of mortal night,"
though dimmed by distance and seen under greatly altered conditions.
Of moderns, I hardly know that the very first class can be assigned to
other names than those of Shakespeare, Dante, Milton, Goethe, Burns,
Wordsworth, and Tennyson. Many come near it from exceptional excel-
lence in some of the qualities which are most essential to true poetry.
Shelley, for instance, is equal to the very greatest in the exquisite suscep-
tibility to all that is beautiful in nature, and the faculty of reproducing it
in the loveliest and most musical of lyrics. His Skylark and Cloud may well
stand as the high-water mark to which lyrical poetry has ever attained.
But he was cut off at an early age, before his intellect had got over the
stage of youthful effervescence, and settled down into the sober and
serene wisdom requisite to reflect truly the spirit of an age, and guide a
world towards better and higher things. He and Keats have given us
" things of beauty " which are "joys for ever," but scarcely wise counsels
182
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 183
and consoling words, to enable us better to live our lives and face oat
destinies. The same may be said of Byron, the vigor of whose verse and
vividness of feeling and description are unsurpassed, but whose ideal of
life and character, be it real or be it affected, is about the last any one
would do well to follow.
Of living poets Tennyson alone comes up to the highest standard.
Others approach it on different sides, but on special sides only, and fail as
conspicuously in many of the attributes of the highest poetry as they excel
in others. Swinburne, for instance, almost equals Shelley in the exquisite
musical susceptibility of rhythm and language, but the ideas behind the
words are for the most part rhetorical, and exaggerated, like those of his
prototype, Victor Hugo. Browning again has intellect and insight, but
his style is so rugged and obscure that to read his poetry is almost like
trying to solve chess-problems. He is to Shelley or Tennyson what
Wagner is to Rossini or Beethoven; caviare to the multitude, and almost
outside the range of the true art which is based essentially on the beautiful.
Of other well-known poets, Pope is a great master of the art of weav-
ing appropriate words into harmonious verse, and his ideas are for the most
part clear and sensible. But they are not profound, and in his chief
philosophical work, the Essay on Man, he rather reflects, with point and
precision, the somewhat conventional and commonplace views of the
average intellect of his age than gives flashes of insight drawn from his
own inward struggles and experiences. The same may be said of Dryden,
who had a singular gift of terse and vigorous expression, which has made
so many of his lines survive in the form of standard quotations. But he
was hardly a deep and original thinker, and however much we may admire
his poetry we learn little from it.
Coleridge I hardly mention as a poet, for his principal work, as a reli-
gious philosopher influencing to a certain extent the spirit of his age, was
done in prose and in conversation. His Aids to Reflection was long the
text-book of the advanced thinkerc of Anglican theology, but his Chris-
tobel, Kubla Khan, and Ancient Mariner, admirable as they are, are little
more than the dreams of a gorgeous imagination. They might be the
visions of an "English Opium-Eater, " in the earlier stages of the seduc-
tive drug as described by De Quincey.
Of the early English poets, the names of Chaucer and Spenser stand
out pre-eminent. Spenser, indeed, has perhaps as large a share as any
other, even of the greatest poets, of that which is the substratum or first
requisite of all true poetry; the exquisite susceptibility to all that is beau-
tiful in the surrounding universe. But his philosophy does not go much
beyond an allegorical representation of vices and virtues as they appear in
the abstract, rather than in the concrete form of living individuals.
Compare Una, who is his most distinct and lovable character, with
Imogen, and you feel at once that Shakespeare gives you a living woman,
in contact with an actual world ; while Spenser's embodiment of nearly
184 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
the same ideal is shadowy and mystic, half woman and half allegory,
living in a world of impossible giants and monsters.
Chaucer, on the other hand, stands on solid earth, and deals with real
characters. In the dramatic faculty of depicting actual living men and
women he has no rival except Shakespeare, and is inferior to him rather
in the narrower width of his canvas, and in the complexity and variety of
the characters depicted, than in the truth and vividness of the portraits
themselves. In his Canterbury Tales we have the real England of the
reign of Edward III. brought before us as distinctly as if we had been one
of the company assembled at the Tabard, and had ridden on the Dover
road to the shrine of St Thomas, with the worthy knight, the dainty and
soft-hearted abbess, the jolly wife of Bath, and the other typical represen-
tatives of the various classes who made up what was the framework of
English society in the fourteenth century. How like they are to us, how
completely we feel that they are our own flesh and blood, and that five
centuries have made but little change either in human nature itself, or in
the special form of it which may be called English nature.
In reading Chaucer I am also struck by the wonderful anticipations of
the most advanced modern thought, which occasionally crop up in the
most unlikely places, and which only require to be translated into
modern language to be at once recognized. For instance, I came across
a passage the other day which, if expressed in the terminology which
would now be used to convey the same ideas, would read as follows —
" The inscrutable First Cause of the universe knew well what he was
about when He established the fair chain of love or of mutual attraction.
For with this chain He bound the elements, fire, air, water and land
together in definite forms so as not to fly asunder into primeval chaos.
" In like manner He established certain periods and durations for all
creation beyond which nothing could pass. This needs no authority to
confirm it, for it is proved by universal experience. Men, therefore, by
this order of the universe may easily discern that the laws of nature are
fixed and eternal. And any one who is not a fool can understand that as
every part is derived from a whole, nature cannot have originated from
any part or parcel of a thing, but from something that is perfect and
stable, passing by evolution from the homogeneous into the heteroge-
neous, until it becomes subject to change and corruption. The Creator of
the universe has therefore in His wise Providence so established its order,
that definite pieces and progressions of things shall not be eternal, but
come into existence and pass away in due succession.
'• Thus the oak which grows so slowly and has so long a life, at last
wastes away and dies. Even the hard rock in time wasteth away; broad
rivers run dry; great cities decay and disappear; and all things have an
end. So also of the human race. All die; some in youth, others in old
age; kings as well as commoners; some in their beds, some in the deep
sea, some in battle-fields.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 185
"There is no help; all go the same way; all die. What causes this but
the Ruler and First Cause of all things, who draws back into His own
essence all that was derived from it, against which decree it availeth no
living creature to strive. Therefore it seems to me to be wise to make a
virtue of necessity and make the best of that which we cannot prevent;
and that a man is a fool who grumbles at that which is the universal
fate, and rebels against the law to which he is indebted for his own
existence."
If any one came across this passage without knowing its origin, he
would be apt to attribute it to some writer who was conversant with the
works of Herbert Spencer, Darwin, and Lyell, and about the last guess he
would make would be, that it came from the father of English poetry
writing in the fourteenth century. And yet if he would turn to the speech
of Duke Theseus in the Knight 's Tale, he would find that it is a literal
though modernized version of what Chaucer puts into the mouth of his
representative of perfect manhood and mature wisdom. Religions and
philosophies have changed, knowledge has increased, but these lines of
Chaucer remain as a summary of the best and truest attitude in which a
man can face the insoluble mysteries of the universe.
This passage alone should be sufficient to justify Chaucer's claim to
rank among the great poets.
My object, however, is not so much to review poetry generally, or to
assign to each poet his proper place in the hierarchy of Art, as to ascertain
what have been the real creeds, or inmost convictions, of those who, by
universal consent, are ranked among the highest. And when I talk of
creeds, I do not mean the outward professions, which, with poets as with
other men, may be mainly affairs of time and circumstance; but the deeper
insight with which they "see into the life of things," and find with
Wordsworth —
" The anchor of the purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of the heart, and soul
Of all the moral being."
In Wordsworth's case the answer is easy; he gives it himself. He finds it
in nature. Not in a dead or mechanical nature, or one limited to seas
and skies, mountains and rivers; but one which includes
" The still sad music of humanity."
And which lives with
" A presence which disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Ot something far more deeply interfuse
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things."
1 86 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
This is very nearly pure Pantheism, and it is remarkable how closely
he approximates in other respects to the Oriental philosophy which finds
its expression in the religions of Brahma and of Buddha, and which
tinged the speculations of Plato. In the Intimations of Immortality, he
adopts, to a considerable extent, the doctrine of the transmigration of
souls, or to express it in modern language, the "Conservation of Energy,"
applied to the immaterial soul as a distinct and indestructible essence.
The problem of immortality hinges on two questions ; life before birth,
life after death. They hang very much together, for if from nothing we
came — *. e. nothing in the sense of no conscious personal identity, it is
more than probable that to nothing we shall return. Wordsworth, in
common with Brahmins, Buddhists, and Platonists, solves this problem
by postulating pre-existence.
«« Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The soul that rises with us our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar."
It is remarkable that this pantheistic view of the universe is essentially
that of other great modern poets, who in other respects, differ most
widely from the calm and self-contained character and serene wisdom of
Wordsworth. Byron, in his moments of best and truest inspiration,
expresses in still more passionate and vigorous language, the same feel-
ing for one great living whole, comprising nature, humanity, and himself.
" All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep,
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most;
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep-
All heaven and earth are still; from the high host
Of stars to the lulled lake and mountain-coast,
All is concentred in a life intense,
Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
But hath a part of being, and a sense
Of that which is of all Creator and defence.
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt
In solitude when we are least alone: "
And again in the rash of the midnight m he wishes to be
«« A sharer in thy fierce and far delight
A portion of the tempest and of thee ! "
Shelley, again, was essentially the poet of Pantheism, and derived all
his best inspiration from
" Earth, ocean, air, beloved brotherhood ! "
The song of the skylark, the fleeting cloud, the forest at noonday, the
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 187^
«• Waste and solitary places, where we taste
The pleasure of believing what we see
Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be,"
spoke to him and he to them as living beings, vibrating in unison
with the most delicate harmonies.
Of Death he speaks as
" The boundless realm of unending change,"
where
" All that we feel, and know, and see
Shall pass like an unreal mystery."
In other words, his glance of insight into the mysteries of the universe is
essentially Pantheistic and Agnostic.
In sharp contrast with the ethereal poetry of Shelley, Burns, while
equal to him or any other poet in the exquisite delicacy of his lyrics,
stands on solid earth, and teaches what may be called a gospel of practi-
cal life. He may not always have acted up to it, but his poetry is pre-
eminent in laying down sound and sensible maxims of conduct, and in-
vesting common things and ordinary life with a halo of tenderness and
dignity drawn from the inspiration of the highest feelings of human na-
ture. Thus, when he says —
" To make a happy household clime
For weans and wife
Is the true pathos and sublime
Of human life,"
he presents an ideal universal in its application, within reach of all,
common to all sorts and conditions of men; and he presents it in a way
which lifts the fundamental fact of the family tie from the region of prose
into that of poetry. The poorest man who lives even approximately, up
to these lines, may feel that he has not lived in vain. By industry, pru-
dence, self-restraint, good temper and kindness, he has made his humble
home a shrine of affection and happiness, and has made good his title to
rank as one of Nature's gentlemen. Goethe means much the same thing
when he says that ' ' no man carries it farther than to perpetuate the
species, beget children, and nourish them as well as he can." But how
cold and ironical does this sound when contrasted with Burns. One is
prose, the other poetry; one a criticism on life, the other an incentive to
purify and exalt it
No one equals Burns in the keenness of insight with which he looks
through the outer husks and habiliments of things to their real essence.
Carlyle's clothes philosophy in Sartor Resartus is but a sermon on the
text—
a88 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
" The rank is but the guinea stamp,
The man's the gold for a' that."
A manly independence, based on the qualities which Tennyson attributes
to the Goddess of Wisdom,
" Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,"
is to Burns, as it is to every one, the solid basis of all the manly virtues.
It is a basis which is more readily provided to those who live by work,
whether of the hand or head, than to those who are born with a silver
spoon in their mouths, and are cradled in comfort and luxury. A man
never knows what is really in him until he has measured himself with his
fellows in real honest work. I have known many a man who fancied
himself one of the creme de la crtme, and looked down on the rest of the
world as "cads" and "outsiders" who was not honestly worth twenty
shillings a week of any man's money. He could ride, but not well
enough to be a whipper-in; shoot, but did not know enough of wood-
craft or rearing pheasants to be a gamekeeper; dance, sing, or draw per-
haps, but nothing well enough to earn a penny by it. Strip him of his
cotton-wool wrappings of wealth and rank, and land him at Sydney or
Melbourne without a sixpence in his pocket, and what could he do to
earn a living ? Possibly drive a cab, or be a waiter at an eating house.
How can such a man feel the same manly independence as one who
knows that, wherever he goes, he has muscles or brains to sell which are
honestly worth their price in the world's market.
No one sets forth so forcibly as Burns the dignity of labor, and the
compensations which go so far to equalize the lot of the rich and poor.
If I wanted to convert to sounder views some narrow-minded social dem-
ocrat, whose one idea was envy of the rich, I would make him read
Burns' Two. Dogs, where the relative advantages and disadvantages of
different stations of life are set forth with so much force and humor.
Against the hardships and privations of the working masses, alternating
with the enjoyments of the evening rest, the healthy appetite, and the sound
sleep, he would read of the non-working classes, how
and learn
" Gentlemen, and ladies worst,
With even-down want of work are curst,"
" It's no in riches orjin rank,
It's no in wealth like London Bank,
To bring content and rest.
If happiness has no its seat
And centre in the breast,
We may be rich, or wise, or great,
But never can be blest."
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 189
He may learn also from the Cotter's Saturday Night how peasant life
may rise to the level of patriarchal dignity ; and from Highland Mary or
Bonnie Jean how the romance of love may be as true and tender by the
' ' banks and braes o' bonnie Doon " as in Belgravian drawing-rooms.
Nor will the lesson be wanting from Willie brewed a peck o' maut zndAuld
Lang Syne, that frank joviality and hearty friendship are not the exclu-
sive appanage of any class or condition of mortal men.
From Burns to Shakespeare is a long stretch, but any attempt to ascer-
tain the creeds of great poets would be incomplete without some analy-
sis of what seems to be the inmost and truest attitude of the greatest of
all poets towards the deepest problems of life. In the case of Shakes-
peare this is not easy to discover, for his genius is so essentially dramatic
that his characters speak and act their own lives, and are not mere masks
behind which the author discourses to the public. Thus Childe Harold,
Conrad, Lara, and Manfred are only Byron himself posing in different
attitudes, while Othello and Macbeth, Falstaff and Dogberry, are types
of themselves reflecting Nature, and not Shakespeare. All we can say
from them of Shakespeare's individuality is, that it must have been wide
enough and rich enough to realize, with a certain amount of sympathy,
all the varied range of human passions and emotions, strength and weak-
ness, wisdom and folly. Even the humorous drolleries, and rogueries,
and sheer imbecilities of human nature are noted and reproduced with a
genial smile.
We cannot say that Shakespeare had any resemblance to Falstaff, but
we may be sure that he had noted some one like him ; some humorous
ton of flesh, unblushing compound of braggart, coward, liar, and glutton,
yet who half redeemed these evil qualities by his ready wit and unfailing
good-humor, and left us almost sorry for him when he died babbling of
green fields in Mistress Quickly's hostelry.
It is only in one or two of his characters that we can discover something
of the real Shakespeare himself, projected from within outwards, and
fashioned in some mood of his own image. This is the case mainly with
Hamlet and Prospero. Of Hamlet I think we may say with some cer-
tainity, that no one could have conceived such a character who had not
a Hamlet in him. He must have felt the irresolution, the despondency,
the metaphysical thought sicklying over the "native hue of resolution,"
the burden of life almost too heavy to be borne, which made a noble
nature and high intelligence drift the sport of circumstances, rather than
"take arms against a sea of troubles," and incur the pain of coming to a
definite decision.
The Sonnets, in which Shakespeare speaks in his own person, reveal a
good deal of this frame of mind. The general tone is that of thought
rather than of action, with an under-current of despondency and gentle
melancholy. Thus, if the 291*1 Sonnet be really Shakespeare's, what a
sermon is it on the vanity of human things, to find the supreme artist of the
190 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
world, the man who had apparently led the most prosperous life, who
had risen from a poor country lad to be the admired friend of the highest
nobles and best intellects of his day, and who had in a few years achieved
fame and competence, writing such lines as these —
" When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate.1*
Or think of such a man, when recalling his past life to the " sessions of
sweet silent thought," thus summing it uj
" I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste}
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan."
No one can mistake the analogy between these Sonnets and the mel-
ancholy musings of the Prince of Denmark.
Again, the 66th Sonnet is almost identical with the enumeration of
the ills of life which make death desirable in Hamlet's famous soliloquy —
" Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, —
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimmed in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honor shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone."
The evidence of this identity between Shakespeare and Hamlet is
Strengthened if we examine in detail the enumeration of the "whips and
scorns of time " which might almost compel a man to suicide. As a
general rule Shakespeare's characters speak with an admirable dramatic
propriety of place and circumstance. They say nothing but what such
characters in such conditions might have said. But in this soliloquy
there are things which Hamlet hardly could have said, and which must be
Shakespeare speaking of his own experiences Thus, the "law's delay"
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. igi
would hardly be included among the serious ills of life justifying suicide by
any one who had not known it by personal experience. We can hardly
suppose the high born and accomplished heir to the Danish throne to have
been a party to a Chancery suit, or to have trod for years, like Peter
Peebles, the corridors of a Copenhagen Court of Session. Nor was he
likely to have suffered from
" The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes."
If then Hamlet's soliloquy expresses the real sentiments of Shakespeare,
we have his judgment on the great questions of death and immortality
summed up almost in the identical words of Tennyson —
" Behind the veil, behind the veil."
To die is "to sleep — to sleep! perchance to dream." Death is " the
undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns." There is
no assurance, absolutely none ! He cannot say with the Materialist, we
shall certainly perish, or with the Christian, we shall certainly live.
The character of Prospero affords even a better test than that of
Hamlet for ascertaining what were Shakespeare's mature views on these
subjects. There can be little doubt that in Prospero Shakespeare has an
eye to himself, retiring in the plentitude of his powers from London and
the stage, to spend the autumn of his days in a round of domestic duties
in his native town. The magic which Prospero abjures can hardly be
other than the poet's imagination, and the staff which he breaks and
book which he drowns,
" Deeper than did ever plummet sound,"
the poet's pen, which had bodied forth so many of these airy nothings,
and given them
" A local habitation and a name."
It is well worthy of remark how nearly this practical solution of the
problem of life coincides with that of another of the world's greatest
geniuses, Goethe.
The drama of Faust concludes by showing how the hero is delivered
from the power of evil, and how the sins and miseries of his career while
commanding the powers of magic are condoned, by devoting himself to
the practical work of real life — reclaiming a waste tract from the sea, col-
onizing it, and making it the abode of healthy human industry.
The moral is precisely the same in the two cases, that man's true life is
the natural and not in the supernatural, or, as Goethe expresses it else-
where, that "here is your America," — not in visionary continents across
unmeasured oceans, but in doing, as Carlyle phrases it, "the duty that lies
nearest to your hand, as the best guide to further duties."
19a BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
But Shakespeare, speaking through Prospero, in his farewell address
to the world goes beyond the sphere of practical life, and gives us his
views of the highest problems of the universe in the well-known lines —
" And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And like this unsubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made of, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."
If in the case of Wordsworth, I had to remark on the singular approx-
imation of modern poetry to the Panthesitic views of Oriental religions
and philosophies, this passage of Shakespeare carries the comparison still
closer. It is the pure doctrine of Maya or illusion, which plays such a
great part in the systems of Brahma and Buddha. There is no reality
but the great Unknowable ; all the manifestations of the universe are
illusive dreams, rising and falling like mists from the Ocean of the
Infinite. Individual existence is but one of these illusions, destined to
disappear like others when its "little life is rounded with a sleep."
Observe that in this latest utterance Shakespeare has gone beyond the
phase of thought which dictated the soliloquy of Hamlet There, death
was a sleep indeed, but a sleep in which there might be dreams, an undis-
covered bourne where there might be anything. But here there is not
merely Agnosticism, but the positive assertion that sleep is all, and that
the individual life is absorbed, like everything else, in the great Ocean
from which it came, of the Infinite and Absolute.
Goethe's theory of the universe is very similar to that of Shakespeare,
but he approximates to the Oriental philosophy rather on its positive or
Pantheistic side than on the metaphysical side of Illusion. Thus, in the
famous reply of Faust to the simple inquiry of Margaret whether he be-
lieves in God, " Wer darf ihn nennen ? " he says —
" Who dares to name Him ?
Who to say of Him, I believe ?
Who is there ever
With a soul to dear,
To utter, I believe Him not?
The All-encompasser, the All-upholder,
Enfolds, sustains He not
Thee, me, Himself? "
And he goes on to say how the over-arching sky, the solid earth, the ever
lasting stars, the depths of human emotion, are but manifestations of the
eternal essence, call it what name you will.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 193
" Words are but mist and smoke
Obscuring Heaven's glow."
This is almost identical with Wordsworth's —
" Sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused."
In a word it is pure Pantheism. So also is the hymn of the Earth Spirit,
who sits weaving the varied shows of the universe —
" And at Time's humming loom prepares
The garment which the Eternal Spirit wears."
It has often been observed to what a little extent religion, that is, the
formal religion of theological creeds, appears in Shakespeare's plays. Love,
ambition, jealousy, all the various motives which practically influence
human conduct and character, are depicted to the life; but religious be-
lief is as completely ignored as if it had no existence. One would have
thought that in an age which had witnessed the martyrdoms of Latimer
and Cranmer, the destruction of the Spanish Armada, and the innumera-
ble wars and conspiracies of the reign of Elizabeth, almost every one
must have been a keen partisan either of the Protestant or of the Catholic
persuasion. And yet such is Shakespeare's indifference or impartiality
that it is impossible to say to which side he inclined. The only conjec-
ture that has been hazarded is, that he leant towards the old faith, be-
cause his friars, especially Father Lawrence in Romeo and Juliet, are
depicted in a favorable light. But this can hardly be carried further
than to show that he was not one of those bigoted Protestants to whom
everything connected with Rome was an abomination. On the other
hand, we find no trace of it, where it might have been most expected, in
ridicule or abuse of the Puritans.
The Puritans were already a considerable sect, and from their bitter
hostility to the stage must have appeared to Shakespeare almost in the
light of personal enemies. His observant eye could not have failed to
notice many of the traits which, as in Butler's Hudibras, laid them open
to ridicule. Many of his characters, as for instance that of Malvolio,
would have enabled him with perfect dramatic propriety to sharpen the
shafts of his satire by introducing an element of Puritanism. But he en-
tirely abstains from doing so by a single word or insinuation. Malvolio
is a prig, but not a Puritan.
The fact is that patriotism and loyalty seem to have been such ruling
motives in Shakespeare's breast as to have left no room for political or
theological differences. The dithyrambic and almost Jingoist praises of
England which he puts in the mouth of John o' Gaunt and other char-
acters are evidently written con amore, and express his real sentiments;
and so also are the glowing eulogiums on the " imperial votaress throned
in the West, " Had he lived a generation later, we may conjecture that
194
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
he would have been a Cavalier, and charged with Rupert rather than with
Cromwell; but at the first threat of foreign interference he would have
been for England, whether under a king, a Protector, or a Parliament.
Perhaps Shakespeare is right, and after all religion plays a less part in
the real life of individuals and of nations, than we are apt to assign to it
It becomes important when it happens to coincide with great currents of
feeling or opinion which are setting in the same direction, but it has lit-
tle effect when it runs counter to them. Thus at the present day, we see
that the feeling of nationality is vastly more powerful than any differences
of religious denomination. Frenchmen, Italians, and Germans are for
national independence and greatness alike, whether they are Catholics,
Protestants, or Freethinkers, just as English Catholics were Englishmen
first and Catholics afterwards at the time of the Armada. Catholic Ire-
land bows the Pope's rescript respectfully out of Court when it comes in
conflict with National feeling, and follows the lead of an " uncrowned
king " who is a Protestant. In private life nothing can be clearer than
that the Christian theory is, that it is better to be poor than rich ; while
the Christian practice is, that it is better to be rich than poor. The ex-
ample of Lazarus and Dives does not prevent the immense majority of
mankind from striving to be better fed, better clothed, better lodged, and
more independent; and the precept to ' ' take no thought for the morrow "
is nowhere in competition with Burns's ideal of life —
" To make a happy household clime
For weans and wife."
An ideal which, under existing conditions, is only to be realized by the
constant exercise of providence and foresight. So also nine-tenths of the
very men who preach and who repeat the command, "Thou and thy
servant shall do no work on the Sabbath," go home to a hot dinner,
which compels their cook to do the same work on the seventh as on the
other days of the week.
The fact is, that these remote and metaphysical speculations, whether
of theology or philosophy, exert wonderfully little influence on practical
life. The spiritualist who holds with Berkeley that matter has no real
existence, walks on solid earth exactly as does the materialists who be-
lieves in nothing but matter. The determinist, who holds that everything
is the result of pre-established harmony, or of mechanical necessity, when
it comes to practical action differs in no perceptible degree from the be-
liever in free-will, who holds with Tennyson that
" Man is man, and master of his fete."
In either case the practical incentive is that
" Because right is right, to follow right
Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence "
In other words, that the rules of right and wrong, which have become
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 195
almost instinctive by the operation of heredity, education, and environ-
ment, influence conduct far more than any theoretical considerations as
to the origin of morals, and practical life is made up mainly of the con-
flict between these instincts and the lower inducements of selfishness, sen-
suality, and passion, which tempt us to disregard them.
Of great poets who may be considered to have drawn their inspiration
from theology there are two — Dante and Milton. In the case of Dante,
however, it is doubtful whether the phantasmagoria of mediaeval horrors
in the Inferno can be considered as anything more than the canvas on
which he has painted his immortal pictures. He is a great poet, from the
passionate insight with which he has described contemporary events and
characters, his knowledge of universal human nature, his vivid power of
description, and the occasional gleams of pity and tenderness which lighten
up his gloomy landscape. His inspiration is to a great extent political
and personal rather than theological. He loves and hates with the in-
tense vehemence of an exile whose life has been marred by the struggles
of contending factions, and who has known the misery of eating the bread
of charity, and mounting the cold stairs of haughty patrons. He takes
the regions of Tartarus, the tortures of the damned, and the malignity ^f
devils, as he finds them ready to his hand in the popular beliefs of his
day, and on this canvas dashes down the vivid impressions and brooding
ideas of which his soul is full ; and that soul being a great one, the
picture is great also.
In the case of Milton, on the other hand, we have an instance of a
really great poet, who, "smit by the love of sacred song, derived his in-
spiration mainly from the Bible and from theology. And if theology
acted thus powerfully on him, he in return reacted no less powerfully on
it, for the conceptions of Adam and Eve, of paradise, of heaven and hell,
and of the whole hierarchy of good and bad angels are derived mainly
from his Paradise Lost. Specially that of Satan transformed from the
grotesque, Pan-like devil of popular mythology into an heroic figure, not
less than "archangel ruined," is purely Miltonic. The indomitable res-
olution with which he opposes his own personality and free will to the
buffets of adverse fate, and the decrees of Omnipotence, elevates the horned
and tailed ' ' auld Clootie " of vulgar tradition into an heroic figure akin
to the Prometheus of Greek tragedy. It may easily be seen from the ex-
ample of Milton, how readily poetry may pass into mythology in uncriti-
cal ages. It was thought by some Greek philosophers that the gods of
Olympus were a creation of Homer's. Had Milton's Paradise Zo-r/been
written before the invention of printing, and transmitted for centuries by
the chants of itinerant bards, probably the same thing might have been
said of many of the personifications of popular Christianity.
In contrasting the spirit of the Greek tragedians with that of modern
poetry, it strikes me very forcibly how much more the element of morality
enters into the former. The ground note of ^Eschylus and Sophocles,
I96 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
and in a less degree of Euripides, is that of an inexorable and irresistible
Fate, based mainly on a vindication of immutable moral laws. This all-
powerful Fate grinds gods and mortals alike, regardless of individual lives,
and of individual pains and sufferings, merits and demerits. The essence
of tragedy lies in the heroic struggles of lofty souls to oppose this inexorable
Fate, and either vindicate against it the more immediate laws of human
justice and mercy, or, if defeated, to suffer and endure with unshaken
resolution. Thus the Thyestian banquet entails a curse on the house of
Atreus, which is visited from father to son to the third and fourth gener-
ation of those whose ancestor had violated one of the fundamental laws
of human nature, and been guilty of cannibalism. The avenging Furies
pursue Orestes to assert the eternal law against the unnatural crime of
matricide, regardless of the extenuating circumstances which might have
induced a modern jury to bring in a verdict of justifiable homicide. So
also (Edipus undergoes the extreme of human suffering, regardless of the
fact that the homicide of his father and marriage with his mother were
committed in total ignorance, and without any taint of what may be
called personal depravity. Antigone and Electra suffer, not only when
they are free from guilt, but when their lives have been devoted to acts of
natural piety. They suffer not for their own sins, but because circum-
stances have involved them in the train of events and family connections,
for which the eternal moral laws require expiation. The spirit of modern
poetry is very different. It is based less on Fate and more on nature; on
nature as it is seen in the outward universe, conceived in the Pantheistic
spirit of a living whole, and on nature as shown by the actual course of
events and real characters and actions of actual men and women. Virtue
is sometimes rewarded and vice punished, but not always; characters are
partly good and partly bad, just as we see them in the real \vorld; they do
not stalk before us on the stage as heroes or demi-gods, in heroic mask
and buskin, but tell their tale and act their parts as ordinary mortals, by
the play of words, gesture, and of the human countenance. From
Chaucer and Shakespeare downwards, the aim of all first-rate poets,
dramatists, and novelists has been, not to preach sermons or illustrate
views of " fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute," but to hold up a mirror
to nature and reflect it as it really is. Not partially, as in the modern
French realistic school, which photographs only that which is ugly and
obscene; nor as in society novels, which find nothing in the world but
school-girl romance, and the rose-colored trivialities of fashionable circles;
but, as Shakespeare did in a supreme degree, the whole real world of
nature, which lies within the domain of art, that is, which admits of being
illuminated by genius into something which in its final impression is
beautiful and not ugly, pleasing and not repulsive.
I have reserved for the last Tennyson, for he is the great poet of
modern thought, who stands nearest to us, and who writes with the full-
est knowledge of the discoveries of recent science, and of the problems
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 197
which occupy the minds of the living generation. In writing of Tenny-
son I have to bear in mind that he has lived many days, and gone through
many phases of thought, and might therefore probably object to be
classed in any one category, or represented as consistently holding in his
declining years the views which he expressed in his early youth or mature
manhood. It is a long journey from the first Locksley Hall, where the
poet of progress hails with exulting spirit the " wondrous mother age,"
and sees in his fellow-men
" Men my brothers, men the workers ever working something new
What they have done but the earnest of the things that they shall do,"
to the Locksley Hall, Sixty Fears After, of the mournful bard who, being
old, "thinks gray thoughts," and walks from Dan to Beersheba, finding
all things barren. It is not for us to complain that the sun is not always
at its meridian splendor, but after having given us light and warmth for
its appointed season, sinks, not in the softer glories of a glowing sunset,
but behind the gray and clammy mists that obscure the horizon.
Let us take rather our great poet at his best and fullest, in the days
when he poured out his inmost soul in In Memortam, and gave the world
his views on the deepest problems, in lines which dwell for ever in the
minds of the foremost thinkers of his generation. No poet of any gener-
ation has struck a deeper or truer note than Tennyson in those noble
stanzas in In Memortam, in which he says —
'« Are God and Nature then at strife,
That Nature lends such evil dreams ?
So careful of the type she seems,
So careless of the single life;
" That I, considering everywhere
Her secret meaning in her deeds,
And finding that of fifty seeds
She often brings but one to bear;
" I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with, my weight of cares
Upon the great world's altar-stairs
That lead from darkness up to God;
" I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To Him I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.
" ' So careful of the type ? ' but No !
From scraped cliff and quarried stone
She cries, ' A thousand types are gone :
I ewe for nothing, all shall co.
I98 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
" « Thou makest thine appeal to me:
I bring to life, I bring to death:
The spirit doth but mean the breath:
I know no more.' — And He, shall He,
«' Man, her last work, who looked so fair,
With splendid purpose in his eyes,
Who rolled the psalm to wintry skies,
And built him fanes of fruitless prayer;
" Who trusted God was love indeed
And Love Creation's final law —
Though Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shrieked against his creed;
" Who loved, who suffered countless ills,
And battled for the True and Just,
Be blown about the desert dust,
Or sealed within the iron hills ?
" No more ? a monster then, a dream,
A discord. Dragons of the prime,
Who tare each other in their slime,
Were mellow music matched with him.
" Oh life as futile, then, as frail !
Oh for thy voice to soothe and bless !
What hope of answer or redress ?
Behind the Veil, behind the Veil ! "
I never read those noble lines without almost a thrill of awe at the
intense truthfulness with which they sum up the latest conclusions of the
human intellect. Here at last is the true truth, based on the inexorable
facts and laws of modern science, and on the ineradicable hopes, fears,
and aspirations of human nature which underlie them in presence of the
"unknowable." Tennyson has read his Darwin, and understands the
facts of " Evolution" and the " struggle for existence." He has read his
Lyell, and knows how the facts of geology show that what is true of
individuals is true of types, and that all creation lives and dies, comes
into existence, and is transformed, by immutable laws. He sees this as
clearly as Herbert Spencer, but, like Spencer, he sees that this is not all,
and that underlying these known or knowable facts and laws is a great
unknowable, in presence of which we can only veil our faces and bow in
reverent silence.
This much, at any rate, it teaches us — that the apprehensions are
visionary which tell us that the progress of science and the light of reason
will banish all poetry and all religion from the world, and reduce life to
an arid and prosaic desert like that of a burnt-out planet. His science
furnishes him with some of the most magnificently poetical similes ever
penned by mortal poet. The struggle for existence, and apparent cruelty
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 199
of Nature, is embodied as the wild eagle, dropping gore from beak and
talon, and shrieking with ravine against the creed of love and mercy.
The Ichthyosaurus and Plesiosaurus give him the
" Dragons of the prime,
Who tare each other in the slime."
The decay of the old simple paths, the slowly-dying creeds, translate
themselves into a deep undertone of the ' ' still, sad music of humanity. "
Men ' ' falter where they firmly trod, " doubt whether their churches and
cathedrals are not "fanes of fruitless prayer, " and their accepted creeds
and solemn services but as the " cry of an infant in the night," and with
"no language but a cry."
Tennyson's practical conclusion is very similar to that of Shakespeare
and Goethe, viz., to place the centre of gravity of human life in the natural
rather than in the supernatural. The advice of his Goddess of Wisdom is
to cultivate "self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control;" and without
investigating too closely the origin of conscience, to accept it as a fact,
" And because right is right, to follow right."
In his Two Voices, after a deep philosophical disquisition on the
Zoroastrian doctrine of polarity, or conflict of two principles, he finds the
best solution of the problem in the spectacle of a man walking to the
parish church between his wife and child.
This is apparently the last word of religions and philosophies. Work
while it is day, for the night cometh when no man can work. Work well
and wisely, and when your little day is over go to sleep calmly, accepting
with an equal mind whatever fate, if fate there be, that may be in store
for you
" BEHIND THE VEIL. "
CHAPTER XI 1.
ARMED EUROPE.
WHAT an irony of fate the history of the latter half of the nineteenth
century seems to one who can look back on the opening of the
first Great Exhibition in Hyde Park. It seemed as if the beautiful glass
fabric which the genius of Sir Joseph Paxton had raised amidst verdant
turf and umbrageous elms, were a modern temple of Janus, in which the
nations of the earth had met to celebrate the inauguration of an era of
perpetual peace.
Nor were such anticipations altogether unreasonable. A quarter of a
century had elapsed since the close of the Napoleonic wars in 1815, with-
out a single war between first-rate powers. The revolutionary hurricane
of 1830, had swept over Europe, prostrating for a time thrones and
dynasties, but no great war had resulted from it Even the thorny ques-
tion of the separation of Belgium from Holland had been settled by
diplomacy. Everything pointed to the conclusion that both nations and
rulers had become wiser, and come to see that war was always a calamity
and often a crime.
Where are those flattering visions now ? " O caeca mens mortalium."
How little is it given even to the most sagacious mortals to foresee the
course of evolution, and how infinitely wise is the aphorism, "Never
prophesy unless you know."
Instead of closing the temple of Janus, the Exhibition of 1851 seems
to have been the signal for throwing its portals wide open, letting slip the
dogs of war, and cheering them on with ever louder cries of havoc.
Since that date there have been eight first-class wars in which great
powers have been engaged, large armies brought into the field, and battles
fought on a scale equal to the greatest recorded in history.
WARS NATIONS ENGAGED.
The Crimean, .... Russia, France, England, and Turkey.
The ist and 2nd Italian, . Austria and Italy.
The Hungarian . . . Austria, Russia, and Hungary.
The 3rd Italian .... France, Austria, and Italy.
The Austria-Prussian . . Prussia, Austria, and the minor Germanic State*.
The Turco-Russian . . Russia and Turkey.
The Franco-German . . France and Germany.
The American, . . . Northern and Southern States of the United State*.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 201
And in addition a number of second-rate but still considerable wars,
§uch as those of France in Mexico, Rome, and Tonquin; of Prussia and
Austria against Denmark; of Russia in Poland and the Caucasus; of
Garibaldi in Italy; and of the United States in Mexico.
Of these minor wars England has had its full share. One indeed, the
suppression of the Indian Mutiny, almost assumed the proportions of a
great war ; and in addition, we have had two Afghan wars, the Egyptian
war, two Chinese wars, and at least four or five little wars in South Africa
and New Zealand.
Confining our attention, however, to the great European wars, there
are several remarkable facts to notice. They originated with the Crimean
war, which first broke the long spell of peace, and introduced the
element of uncertainty and distrust into the relations of the great military
powers. They have gone on upon an increasing scale, the warfare of
standing armies having developed into conflicts of armed nations. In
talking of the armaments of nations, millions have come to mean what
hundreds of thousands did fifty years ago, or even down to the date of
Louis Napoleon's campaign in Italy. At Magenta and Solferino not
above 100,000 men on each side actually confronted one another on the
field of battle; while in the Austria- Prussian war, the two armies engaged
in the campaign numbered together more than 500,000; and in the
Franco-German war the effective force in the field of one power alone
exceeded that number. And the process is still going on. The result of
these great wars has not been to establish conditions of settled peace, but
rather an armed truce, in which all the nations vie with one another in
increasing armaments.
There are, or shortly will be, when the latest military organizations are
carried out, not less than fifteen millions of soldiers drilled, disciplined,
and to a certain extent taken from civil life in the five great military states
alone, viz. —
Russia, in round figures 5,000,000
Germany 3,500,000
France 3,000,000
Austria 2,000,000
Italy 1,500,000
15,000,000
And the number still tends to increase, while vast sums are expended
in new and improved forts, guns, and military railways. It is not sur-
prising that all the countries whose resources are thus strained are accu-
mulating debts and are increasing taxes, in some cases to an extent which
threatens bankruptcy and general impoverishment.
And the worst of it is, that, as matters stand, there seems no issue from
this impasse of progressive armaments and expenditure. Germany and
Italy clearly cannot disarm unless France sets the example. Their re-
2o2 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
cently acquired national unity and independence would be in serious
danger, if France got so far ahead of them in military preparation as to
be able, either alone or in alliance with Russia, to attack them with a
superior force. France, again, cannot disarm without resigning herself to
the loss of Alsace and Lorraine, and her chance of regaining her position
as the leading state in Europe. Nor can Austria disarm unless Russia
does so ; and Russia cannot, without resigning all her national and tra-
ditional aspirations to be the head of the Greek Christian races whom she
has emancipated from the Turkish yoke by a lavish expenditure of Russian
blood and treasure, and seeing them and the inheritance of the fast dying
Turkish empire, past into alien and possibly hostile hands.
While this state of things continues, disarmament and permanent peace
must remain a pious aspiration rather than a question of practical poli-
tics. The utmost that can be hoped is to prolong the precarious truce
from year to year by the reluctance of any power to precipitate a conflict
of such enormous dimensions and uncertain issue. In the meantime, the
electricity is accumulating, and thunder-clouds rising ever blacker and
higher above the horizon. Will the tension go on increasing, until some
accident makes them explode in the thunder-peals and blood-rain deluges
of the greatest war the world has ever seen ? or may it be possible, by
any diplomatic lightning-conductors, to draw the elements of danger
noiselessly to the earth and avert the catastrophe ?
This is a case in which it is peculiarly dangerous to prophesy, depend-
ing, as it does, on so many incidents and personalities on which no man
can calculate. All that can be done is to appeal to past history, arid from
this " philosophy teaching by experience," endeavor to draw some de-
ductions which may assist us in arriving at some conclusions as to the
causes which have led to this enormous development of militarism among
civilized nations, and the main conditions which tend to make any return
to pacific relations so extremely difficult.
The first conclusion to be drawn is adverse to the chances of diplo-
macy being able to relieve the existing tension. For diplomacy was
really the " fons et origo malorum." The Crimean war, which began the
series of great wars, was essentially a diplomatic war. It was not a nec-
essary war, or one arising from the conflict of great national interests,
but distinctly a war made for diplomatic or personal objects by three men
— the Emperor Nicholas, Louis Napoleon, and Lord Palmerston.
In the case of the Emperor Nicholas, a long reign of absolute power
and uninterrupted success, acting on a strong and proud nature, had led
to a feeling of arrogance, which made him incapable of yielding an inch
in any pretensions which he had once put forward. He had posed too
long as the divinely appointed champion of conservatism and protector of
the Christian races and of Russian influence in the East, to let Lord
Palmerston and Lord Stratford de Redcliffe score a point against him in
the trumpery question of the holy places at Jerusalem, even when the
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 203
manifest interest of Russia was to play a waiting rather than a forward
game.
Louis Napoleon was actuated by purely personal motives. His empire,
based on a coup d' etat and fusillades on the Boulevards, required the eclat
of a successful war and the prestige of an English alliance to give it per-
manence and respectability.
Lord Palmerston, again, was actuated by purely diplomatic motives.
He was the pupil of Canning, trained in the Foreign Office, and naturally
high-spirited and liberal. For years he had been the champion of all
liberal movements in the New and Old Worlds, and had everywhere found
the Emperor Nicholas his foremost opponent. France under Louis
Philippe had deserted him, and, as he thought, played him false, in the
matter of the Spanish marriages. He was determined to have his revenge,
and alone among English statesmen he hailed the accession of Louis
Napoleon as a means of obtaining it. He saw his opportunity in an
alliance between England, France, and Turkey to checkmate Nicholas in
the East; and, like a true diplomatist, thought more of winning the next
move, than of the real interests of the country and the permanent course
of events. By his personal popularity, and the popular feeling against
Nicholas as the champion of absolutism and destroyer of Polish and
Hungarian liberty, he dragged the Court, the Cabinet, and the country
with him, and involved us in the French alliance and the Crimean war.
He won the game for the moment, but what were the permanent results ?
He seated a political adventurer in the saddle, who for the next fifteen
years kept us and all Europe in hot water. He inaugurated the system of
great wars and excessive armaments, and destroyed the feeling of security
which had so long been the guarantee of peace. He raised the military
prestige of France to the foremost place in Europe, and lowered that of
England, for, notwithstanding the valor of our soldiers, their insufficient
numbers and the miserable failure of our arrangements for recruiting and
transport, made it palpable to the world that we were only playing second
fiddle to France. He lowered it indeed to a degree that was to a great
extent responsible for the Indian Mutiny, and for our ineffectual attempts
to prevent the outbreak of subsequent wars. England, in fact, remained
for many years almost a quantite negligeable in foreign politics; and Europe,
as a witty Frenchman said, for a long time stood in the attitude of a
poodle dog watching the eye of its master at the Tuileries.
On the other hand, the ostensible object of the war, the permanent
renovation of Turkey as a substantial barrier against Russian encroachment
failed utterly, as it was bound to fail, against the irresistible current of
events, which makes for decay of the Turkish Empire, and for the
emancipation of the Christian races, who are so much more apt for pro-
gress and civilization. The old Foreign Office policy of bolstering up the
Turkish rule over these races, and opposing Russia at every point in
Europe and Asia, was not only a short-sighted, but what is worse, a cynical
204 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
and immoral policy. It was a short-sighted policy, because it overlooked
the disproportion between means and ends, and made us the catspaw to
draw the chestnuts out of the fire for States like Austria, who had a far
larger interest in the Eastern question than ourselves. It was a policy
sure to fail in the long run, because the idea of regenerating Turkey was
purely fallacious. It was a policy which directed our attention from real
dangers nearer home from France, to remote, and to a great extent
imaginary dangers from Russia in Central Asia. And it was a cynical and
immoral policy, for even had it been possible, we had no right to say that
Roumanians, Servians, Bulgarians, and Greeks should continue to groan
forever under the desolating rule of Turkish pachas, in order to give
England some fancied better security against a remote danger of a Russian
attack on India.
If we trace the action of diplomacy farther, we find it responsible not
only for the first of the great modern wars, but for several of the succeed-
ing ones. By diplomacy, meaning the personal action of the man or
men who controlled foreign policy, as distinguished from great national
interests or currents of national sympathy. Thus the Franco-Austrian
war in Italy and the Franco-German war were distinctly due to the same
cause as had been the principal cause of the Crimean war — viz., the neces-
sity felt by Louis Napoleon of giving France a sensational policy and
military glory, in order to reconcile it to the loss of liberty. In the case
of the Italian war, other motives may have conspired ; such as the sym-
pathy of Louis Napoleon with Italy from early recollections, and the fear
of assassination by conspirators of the Orsini type. But the motives were
purely personal. No one could say that, however desirable Italian inde-
pendence might be in itself, France had any such interest as to justify
spending French blood and treasure in promoting it On the contrary,
as the event has shown, the purely selfish interest of France was opposed
to the creation of a strong power on her Southern frontier, who might not
improbably become a rival or an enemy.
But if there may have been some mixture of motives on the part of
Louis Napoleon in commencing the Italian war, it remains certain that it
was worked up to by diplomatic means, and that diplomacy failed sig-
nally in averting it, though every effort was used, and the war was never
popular in France itself.
And there can be no question that the last and greatest of the great
wars, the Franco-German war, was simply and solely a diplomatic war.
The French Emperor had been for some time going down-hill. The
startling Prussian victories in the campaign of Sadowa had dimmed the
prestige of French military pre-eminence, and it had become apparent to
himself and the whole world, that he had been overreached and over-
mastered by the superior genius of Bismarck. With this decline of his
foreign prestige discontent at home had rapidly increased, Gambetta and
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 205
a host of the best orators and writers of France were daily thundering
philippics against his throne, and undermining it by sarcasms.
The Empress, who had acquired considerable ascendancy after the
Emperor's surrender to her in order to avert the scandal of her flight to
Edinburgh, saw clearly that victory alone could secure the dynasty, and
place the crown on the head of her son. She was therefore keen for war,
as indeed she had been for the Mexican war from religious motives, and
the frivolous entourage of the Court followed her example. The carpet-
generals, such as Lebouf, Frossard, and De Failly, were also all for war,
and full of the Chauvinistic idea of the invincibility of the French Army,
and the marvels of the mitrailleuse and chassepot Louis Napoleon
himself hestitated, for although he had grown lazy and lethargic with
advancing years, he was still too much of a statesman not to realize the
risks he ran in staking everything on the issue of a conflict with an army
which had crushed Austria in a seven weeks' campaign. But he had lost
his best adviser, the shrewd and cynical De Morny ; Marshal Niel was
also dead, and he had no military authority of sufficient weight to stem
the tide. MacMahon was his best general, a gallant gentleman and
good officer, but a man of no large views or force of character. Bazaine
was a mere fighting bull-dog, of no more capacity than a common
soldier.
Yet with all these unfavorable surroundings, war would hardly have
been possible without the aid of the diplomatic machinery, which, in the
hands of Grammont and Benedetti, envenomed trifling incidents, and led
the Emperor step by step over the brink on the edge of which he was
hesitating. If the communications between the courts of Paris and Berlin
had been conducted through the Post Office by registered letter, instead
of through ambassadors, it would have been impossible to inflame the
Parisian populace by the invention of imaginary results.
One reflection from a review of these great wars is, that although they
originated in the purest personal motives of some three or four individ-
uals, they led to far-reaching results, which their authors were as far as
possible from contemplating. The Crimean war fixed Louis Napoleon on
the throne. Louis Napoleon's position led him into further wars, the
net result of which was to weld Germany and Italy into great nations.
The principle of nationality was the great undercurrent of the age, on the
surface of which Louis Napoleon, Palmerston, Cavour, and even Bismarck
himself, were but as straws showing the direction of the movement they
seemed to guide. Of Bismarck only can it be said that he foresaw the
movement, and to a considerable extent by his personal character and
action influenced the course of events. So true is it that there is a
' ' Providence which shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we may. "
The modern spirit of nationality is, in fact, the ruling factor in European
politics. The " School-master abroad," instead of inaugurating an era of
peace, has, in fact, been the principal cause of the modern eras of great
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
wars, and remains to the present day the chief element in the state of
unstable equilibrium which necessitates excessive armaments. The press
and education have taught all people who have a common race and lan-
guage, to rush by an irresistible impulse, towards a common nationality.
As in industrial enterprise railways tend to amalgamate, stores to super-
sede shops, and colossal companies to swallow up private undertakings,
so in politics, populations who go to school and read books and news-
papers, tend to rush together, according to affinities of race, language,
literature, and past history, and either form great empires, or, at any rate,
assert their independent nationalities. Even the smallest and most
remote nationalities feel the impulse, and Greeks, Roumanians, Bulgari-
ans, Servians, Magyars, Croats, and Czecks, agitate for greater independ-
ence or wider frontiers, introducing by their agitation an element of
risk and instability in all the relations of the Austrian Empire and of
Eastern Europe. Still more is the feeling of nationality paramount,
where great civilized races, like the Germans and Italians, with a glorious
common literature and great historical traditions, refuse to remain longer
under foreign rule, or cut up into petty states, in order to give colossal
neighbors the pleasure of bullying them with impunity, and insist on
taking their natural place among the foremost nations of the world.
Another important fact results from an examination of recent wars.
In three of the great wars — the Crimean, the Franco-Austrian, and the
Franco-German — France has been the originator and principal party,
while of the minor wars — those of Mexico and Tonquin — her aggression
was the sole cause. If we follow the course of history farther back, we
find this to be no isolated phenomenon, but that for more than two cen-
turies France has been the principal disturber of the peace of Europe;
and this in spite of repeated lessons, in opposition to the obvious interests
of the French people, and in many cases even to the popular feeling of a
majority of the nation, if it could have been fairly consulted. The whole
series of wars of Louis XIV., Louis XV., and Napoleon, were undertaken
without any rational object, to gratify the vanity or ambition of rulers
trading on the appetite of the French for military glory. In the recent
wars of Louis Napoleon this was even more conspicuously the case, for it
cannot be said of any one of them that it was necessary for any interest
of the French nation, or otherwise than unpopular with the mass of the
French people. The Crimean and Italian wars were never popular,
though they resulted in victories. The Mexican war was so unpopular
that it almost forced the Emperor into the last desperate risk of the war
with Germany in order to retrieve his position. The latest war, that of
Tonquin, was more than unpopular; it was so odious that it led to the
return of a formidable minority of Royalists, and has estranged from
power perhaps the ablest man of the Republican party, Jules Ferry, for
the sole reason that he was responsible for it.
Such a series of historical events, extending over two centuries; cannot
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE.
207
have occurred without great underlying causes in the character and in-
stitutions of the French nation, which have enabled individual rulers, and
often mere court intriguers and courtesans, to lavish French blood and
treasure in such senseless and, in the long run, disastrous enterprises.
The causes are not far to seek. Since Cardinal Richelieu crushed the
aristocracy and local liberties, France has been a country in which Central
Administration was pushed to its extreme limits. The Revolution and
the empire of Napoleon carried the levelling process still farther, and
tightened the bands of centralization. Whoever gets hold of the War
and Foreign Offices, and of the Telegraph, is, for the time being, master
of France. Even this, however, would hardly suffice if there were not
something in the character of the French nation on which ambitious
rulers and aspiring adventurers could rely to give them, at any rate, a
temporary support.
The French character remains essentially as it was described by Julius
Caesar — fickle, excitable, and vainglorious. Vanity, or the desire to shine,
is the fundamental trait both of the personal and national character.
Their emblem is still the Gallic cock.
" Qui chante bien haut quand il est vainqueur,
Plus haut encore quand il est vaincu."
I do not say this at all as a matter of reproach. Vanity is a quality
which is at the bottom of a great deal that is good. To be amiable,
polite, eager to shine and to excel, enthusiastic for ideas, open to novel-
ties, may, within certain limits, be contrasted favorably with the oppo-
site extreme into which we English, and other harder races like the Prus-
sians, are apt to fall, of a surly, arrogant pride, which disdains to please,
and looks down on all the world who are outside of their own limited set
or nation as inferior mortals. The contrast may be summed up by say-
ing, that France fights for ideas, England for interests.
But admitting that, as an abstract, ethical question, there may be
much to be said in favor of the French, as contrasted with the Teutonic
character, as a question of practical politics we must take things as we
find them, and recognize that these traits of French character, which have
been such a fruitful cause of wars in the past, remain so in the present
and the future. In the case of other nations, we can, to a great extent,
foresee and predict their course, if we understand rightly what are their
interests, and their great currents of national aspirations and feelings.
They are the planets of the European system revolving in more or less
settled orbits by calculable forces ; while France is a comet whose course
may be retrograde, and which may blaze out suddenly at some unex-
pected moment. Who can tell whether, five years hence, France will be
an Empire, a Monarchy, or a Republic, or whether she will be at peace
or war with Germany, Italy, or England ? This is a danger for all other
States, but especially for England, for it must never be forgotten that
2o8 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
France is the only enemy from whom we have anything serious to appre-
nend. Russia would in all probability let us alone in India if we let her
alone in Europe; and if the worst came to the worst, a war with Russia
would be, as Bismarck said, one between a whale and an elephant
Russia could not contest with us the empire of the seas, or threaten x>ur
coasts with invasion. All she could do would be to excite alarms on our
Indian frontier, and put us to the expense of maintaining in India one or
perhaps two army corps more than would otherwise be necessary.
But with France it would be a duel a la mart. In conceivable contin-
gencies, under the unknown conditions of modern naval warfare, she
might either command the Mediterranean and expel us from Egypt, or
the Channel, at any rate for a time, and invade us with a superior force
and capture London. In any case, she could inflict great injury on our
maritime commerce., and transfer a large portion of it to neutral flags.
She would certainly aim at one or all of these objects, and if possible at
an invasion, setting off a victory on British soil, and the capitulation of
London, as an offset against Waterloo and the occupations of Paris. In
such a war we could not safely reckon on allies. In the absence of posi-
tive engagements, Germany would have no great interest in risking the
bones of a Pomeranian Grenadier to defend England. On the contrary,
a war between France and England would divert the attention of France
from the recovery of her lost provinces. If adverse to France, the result
would be to cripple her for a long period; if successful to her, it would
lead to a scramble for naval and colonial supremacy, in which Germany
might find her account, and in any event would throw England into the
hostile camp, and ensure her seeking a German alliance on almost any
terms that Bismarck might choose to dictate. The accession of England
at once to the triple alliance would be a great security against these
dangers, but it is a question of terms. Bismarck would undoubtedly act
on his maxim, ' ' Do ut des, " and require positive engagements in ex-
change for those he gave. Lord Salisbury alone is in a position to know
what those terms would be, but it is to be apprehended that they would
be of such a nature that the British Parliament and public opinion would
decline to ratify them. We should certainly be very reluctant to take
engagements which obliged us to enter on a second Crimean war to
bolster up Turkey, or to risk being drawn into a great war by the conflict
of Austrian and Russian influences in the Balkan States. Moreover,
while these dangers from France and Russia remain in the background, it
is highly important for us to maintain friendly relations with those States
as long as possible.
Our wisest course probably will be to avoid entangling alliances, and
trust to our own strength ; but in this case it is indispensable to put our
naval and military defences — and especially our navy — on such a footing
as to remove any temptation to make a sudden attack on us, in the hope
that it might find us unprepared. But in the mean time, it remains a
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 209
primary factor in the European situation, that no general disarma-
ment is possible, unless France sets the example.
This could only be accomplished in one of two ways — either by a
great war, in which France was so utterly defeated as to be completely
crippled, or by her being so isolated as to see that any attempt was hope-
less, and so exhausted by increasing debt and taxation as to make some
of the parties who, in the frequent vicissitudes of French politics, may
come into power, see that peace was a safer card to stake upon than la
revanche and military glory.
But this is hardly likely to come about as long as hopes remain of an
alliance with Russia to redress the balance of force, and enable French
armies to take the field with some reasonable chance of success. This,
again, depends very much on the relations between Austria and Russia.
If the natural desire of France to regain her prestige and her lost prov-
inces is one principal element in the European situation, the unstable
equilibrium of the Austrian Empire is another. It has been said that "if
Austria did not exist, it would be necessary to invent her." This is to a
great extent true. Nothing but the tradition of loyality to the Hapsburg
dynasty, and the esprit de corps of a powerful army, keep together the
heterogeneous elements of which Austria is composed. Half the popula-
tion are of Slavonic and other alien races, who dislike the German and
still more the Magyar elements, which are the dominant races in the dual
empire. In the Cis-Leithian, or western half, where the Germans pre-
ponderate, it is a question of the nicest statesmanship to reconcile this
German preponderance with the rival pretentious of the Czeks of Bohemia
and Poles of Gallicia. Concessions to these make the Germans look
towards Berlin, and concessions to the Germans make those look towards
St. Petersburg. Still the situation is possible, for the colossal power of
tne German Empire stands behind, and makes it certain that a Slavonic
Bohemia would not be tolerated in the heart of Germany. But in the
eastern, or Hungarian, half of the empire, the situation is greatly
aggravated. The Magyars are the ruling race, who, by their superior
statesmanship, valor, and tenacity, have fairly won the foremost place;
but they have one fatal defect — they are not sufficiently numerous. They
are outnumbered by the Slavonic and Rouman races, alien to them by
language, past history, and religion; and who, with the spread of education,
and the rising feeling of nationality, resent more and more every day the
attempts of the Magyars to consider them as mere appanages of the king-
dom of St. Stephen. The great Croatian bishop, Strossmayer, is, as we
have seen lately, a political force, who can treat almost on equal terms
with popes and emperors. And well he may, for he represents the old
Slavonic nation, who form a majority, and in many cases nearly the whole
of the population in Croatia, Dalmatia, Carinthia, Southern Hungary,
Bosnia, Herzegovina, Montenegro, Servia, and the western half of
Macedonia. They are all of the same race, speak the same language,
2io BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
read— or are learning to read — the same books and newspapers, and are
drawn together by so many affinities, that if all external pressure were
withdrawn, they would almost certainly rush together, and reform the
great Servian kingdom which was shattered by the Turks at the battle of
Kossova. And they are all animated by very much the same feeling, not
to be Germanized, and above all not to be Magyarized. This is Austria's
great difficulty, and, in case of a war, might readily become Russia's
opportunity. While this state of things lasts Austria cannot disarm, and
an armed Austria implies of necessity an armed Russia.
Is there any possible escape from this fatal circle, which compels all the
great Powers not only to maintain, but to increase and improve those
gigantic armies which have converted Europe into an armed camp, and
passed 15,000,000 of men through the hands of the drill-sergeant ? I can
see only one possible alternative to that of a great war, which should
definitely determine who was the strongest, and to a great extent remodel
the map of Europe and the conditions of its equilibrium. It is this. If
the "honest broker "at Berlin could negotiate such a compromise as
should satisfy Russia without unduly weakening Austria, and by satisfying
Russia should isolate France, and thus render a general disarmament
possible. Such a compromise would have to be based on a partition of
European Turkey.
A century ago the rivalries of Russia, Austria, and Prussia were settled
by the partition of Poland. That was felt to be a political crime, for it
extinguished the life of an historical nation, which however turbulent and
troublesome, had done signal service to Christendom under Sobieski at
the siege of Vienna. But no such moral considerations would apply to
the Turks, who have never been anything but a tribe of invading warriors,
encamped on the soil of Europe, desolating its fairest provinces, and
crushing out the civilization and progress of the conquered races. One
has only to compare the present state of Roumania, Bulgaria, Servia, and
Greece with what it was while they were governed by Turkish Pachas, to
see what an immense boon to civilization it would be if Christian were
established for Mahometan rule in the remaining provinces. And it would
be the first step towards the establishment of a state of stable equilibrium
in the east of Europe, for while the "sick man " is dying by inches, all
sorts of interests are watching for his inheritance, each anxious either to
secure the lion's share for themselves or to prevent others from appropriat-
ing it.
At the same time there are great practical difficulties in the way of a
peaceabl solution, to appreciate which it is necessary to understand the
position of the principal parties interested. These are in the first place
Russia, Austria, the new Balkan States, and Greece ; and in a lesser
degree Germany, England, and Italy. The interest of Germany is almost
entirely Austrian. She cannot stand by and see a semi-German empire
like that of Austria dismembered, and the formidable power of Russia,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 21I
backed by Pan-Slavonic aspirations, preponderant over Eastern Europe
almost up to the gates of Vienna. And although Constantinople is the
back-door of Russia, it is also, to a considerable extent, the back-door of
Austria and Southern Germany. The interest of England and Italy is
almost exclusively confined to the question of Constantinople and the
Dardanelles. It would be dangerous for us and Italy in the Mediterra-
nean, if the Black Sea and Dardanelles were to become a sort of Russian
mare clausum, inaccessible without her permission to commerce, and from
which Russian fleets or privateers could issue as from an impregnable
fortress, where they could not be attacked in return.
As regards the minor states — Roumania, Servia, Bulgaria, Greece, and
Montenegro— though weak individually, they have all attained to a sepa-
rate and growing nationality, and together cover too wide an extent of
population and territory to be ignored. It is evidently a question of
influence and protectorate rather than of annexation in the case both of
these countries and of the remaining provinces of Turkey, which in the
natural course of events must sooner or later fall to them. Thus Old
Servia must gravitate towards Servia, Eastern Macedonia towards Bul-
garia, the Macedonian sea-coast, Epirus, Crete, and the islands towards
Greece, constituting in each case states large enough to be jealous of
their independence, and averse to being annexed as provinces either of
Russia or of Austria. But in the long run their leanings must be rather
towards Russia than Austria, both from affinities of race and religion, and
because the support of Russia is indispensable for them in order to obtain
the natural extension of their frontiers and the liberation of their brethren
who still remain under the chronic misgovernment of Turkey.
The solution of this problem must lie in the direction of a federation
of these Eastern Chirstian States, and such a neutralization as prevents
them from attacking one another, and from being used either as an out-
post of Russia to attack Austria, or as an outpost of Austria against
Russia to protract the agony of the Turkish Empire, and bar the way
against any advance of Russia towards Constantinople. Under such con-
ditions these new states might one and all disarm, and devote their ener-
gies to peaceful pursuits, instead of exhausting themselves by keeping up
large armies and foreign military princes.
But after all Constantinople remains the chief difficulty. Unless some
arrangement can be made respecting it, it must remain a constant source
of antagonism between Russia and Austria, and a permanent element of
unstable equilibrium in European politics. The prize is too valuable to
be appropriated unconditionally by any one of the parties interested,
except as the result of a great war which ended in the complete victory of
one of the claimants.
To understand this fully we must endeavor to place ourselves impar-
tially in the point of view of the principal parties. For Russia the ques-
tion of Constantinople is absolutely vital. It is so both from material
213 BEACON LIGHTS OP SCIENCE.
considerations, holding as it does the key of the back-door of her house,
and in hostile hands barring the commerce of the southern half of her
empire from its natural outlet, and enabling the enemy's fleets to enter
the Black Sea while Russian ships of war are blockaded in it. And it is
even more vital from the national and religious feelings of the entire
Russian nation. Russia is the one remaining country in which religion
still constitutes an important element in politics. The very phrase "Holy
Russia " denotes the feeling of the immense majority of the 100,000,000
of its population. Devotion to the Christianity of the Greek Church, and
to the Czar as its temporal representative, is the animating principle which
makes the Moujik die in the trenches of Sebastopol, or storm the
Balkan passes in the depths of winter. Add to this an hereditary hatred
of Turks, bred by centuries of contests with them and Tartars.
To these simple, devoted Russians a war with Turkey for the emanci-
pation of Christian races and places, is almost what a war with the infidel
for Jerusalem was to the early Crusaders. And Constantinople is their
Jerusalem, the cradle of their religion, the head-quarters of the orthodox
faith, the afflicted elder sister of their own Moscow. To place the Cross
above the Cresent on the dome of St. Sophia would be the dearest wish of
every Russian, and the Czar who succeeded in realizing it would be for
generations the object of almost divine veneration. The strength of this
feeling was shown only the other day, when sympathy with Servians fight-
ing against Turks attracted Russian volunteers of all classes, and finally
developed into such an irresistible current of public opinion as swept away
the Czar and his statesmen, and involved Russia in the last great war with
Turkey.
The fact is that Russian politicians may avail themselves of this feeling
for purposes of ambition, or restrain it for a time if the occasion does not
seem opportune, but they cannot control it. Whether we like it or not,
we must start with the fact that Russia will spend her last rouble and fight
her last man rather than allow any other Power to seize Constantinople,
or permanently bar the way towards it Also, that although she may be
content to remain passive and wait for a favorable opportunity, and for the
approaching dissolution of the Turkish Empire, to strike a blow, she will
not disarm, or allow any combination which might permanently debar
her from her share of the inheritance, while the Eastern question remains
in its present provisional state of unstable equilibrium.
This implies, that as long as the Eastern question remains unsettled,
Russia cannot allow France to be crushed, and thus leave herself without
an ally, in presence of Austria backed by Germany. And Russia can
afford to wait, for the course of events is tending steadily in her favor.
Catholic Austria, with her conflicting nationalities, cannot in the long run
compete for the protectorate or annexation of Eastern Christians of the
Slav race and Greek Church with orthodox Russia, with her population
of 100,000,000 of the same race and religion. Even a successful war
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 213
would only add to the embarrassments of Austria by introducing a still
larger Slavonic element into her empire, and making an equilibrium based
on the preponderance of the Magyars still more difficult; while Russia, on
the other hand, could keep whatever she got in the way of influence or
territory without endangering the unity of her empire.
The result, therefore, is that in the present state of European politics
disarmament is almost impossible, and the condition of precarious armed
peace and ever-increasing armaments must go on, until some accident
fires the match and it explodes in a great war. The only possible escape
would be, as already suggested, by a settlement of the Eastern question
at the expense of Turkey, in some way which would satisfy Russia with-
out unduly crippling Austria. A federation of the Greek Christian States
seems possible, as the first step towards a solution. Is any such solution
possible as regards Constantinople ? If nothing is done the course of
events will probably, sooner or later, and after one or more wars, solve
the problem by giving it to Russia.
A pacific settlement of the question of Constantinople would only be
possible on the basis of making it, with the Dardanelles, a sort of neutra-
lized and unharmed free city, open at all times to the commerce of the
world, but precluded from taking any part in war, or allowing itself to
be made a basis for hostile operations. This could be done either by
neutralizing the whole of the Black Sea, or by allowing ships of war
of all Powers to pass in or out, but not to remain within its limits, or
to engage in hostilities within a limited distance of its ingress or egress ;
making the Dardanelles, in effect, a sort of Suez Canal.
Constantinople itself would have to be made a sort of Metropolitan
city of the Greek Church, and its civil government vested in some council
in which the interests of the guaranteeing Powers were fairly represented.
The hereditary prince or president of such a council would have to be
some one acceptable to Russia and professing the Greek religion.
Whether such a solution would be possible it is difficult to say, but the
alternative seems to be a continuance of the present precarious state of
things, involving constant alarms and the maintenance of excessive arma-
ments, with the probable ultimate result of a still more complete protec-
torate or annexation by Russia. In fact the difficulties of any peaceful
solution are so great that it seems probable that Europe cannot arrive at
a state of stable equilibrium, making a general disarmament possible,
without passing through the crisis of a great war, to ascertain by the rude
test of the survival of the strongest, which conflicting interest has got
might on its side, and which being the weaker must go to the wall.
Some accident may precipitate such a crisis any day but it would be rash
to prophesy without knowing, and the outcome of the present state of
tension must be regulated to the " Problems of the Future."
CHAPTER XIII.
TAXATION AND FINANCE.
HAVING been practically conversant with financial subjects for the
best part of half a century, I am naturally disposed to look at the
questions of the day a good deal from the point of view of financial policy
It is clear to me that we are approaching a grave crisis as regards this
policy. The necessity of placing the defences of the country in a state
in which we can contemplate the enormous armaments of foreign nations
and the menacing contingencies of European wars with tolerable security,
has become so apparent, that a very large expenditure is inevitable in order
to bring up the army and navy to a standard below which they never
should have been allowed to fall. This of itself necessitates a departure
from the principles on which Chancellors of the Exchequer have been
accustomed to frame Budgets, vis., to pare down estimates, pay off National
Debt, and, if possible, reduce taxation: in a word, to make immediate
popularity with the House of Commons and the country the primary con-
dition in the art of Budget-making.
It is evident that this is incompatible with the necessity of making large
and immediate expenditure on our armaments, and this of itself makes a
new departure in finance inevitable.
To make a new departure we must also take into account the growing
power of a vastly enlarged public opinion and electorate, which insists on
applying rules of common-sense and natural equity to all institutions and
all subjects of national policy, and will no longer be contented with
authority and tradition. Finance, being a subject which comes home to
every one in the unpleasant form of taxation, cannot escape from this
influence; and if the country is called upon to incur larger expenditure,
it will insist on two things: first, that it gets money's worth for its money;
and secondly, that the requisite taxation is levied fairly as between dif-
ferent classes.
Having thought much on these subjects, I have attempted, in the fol-
lowing article, to define some of the principle points which will have to
be considered, and to indicate the lines upon which Budgets, suited to
the altered circumstances of the times, will have to be framed. My con-
clusions may be right or wrong, but at any rate they are not those of a
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 215
mere amateur, but of one who has in his time prepared two Indian, and
assisted in preparing two English Budgets.
It has been said, " Give me a good foreign policy and I will give you
good finance." There is much truth in this saying, for our foreign policy
is responsible for a large portion of the national expenditure. Without
going back to the great wars of the last century, or the struggle against the
French Republic and Napoleon, respecting which opinions may differ,
and confining ourselves to recent history, we may affirm with confidence
that the Crimean, the Abyssinian, and the Afghan wars were diplomatic
wars, and that our expenditure in Egypt, the Soudan, and South Ai.ica is
to a great extent attributable to a vacillating and unwise foreign and
colonial policy. The surest test of the wisdom or unwisdom of a policy
is to ask ourselves whether, if we had to do the thing over again, we should
do it as it was done, or differently. Assuredly, in the cases above
mentioned, we should not do it as it was done; and it is within the mark
to say that at least £100,000,000 has been spent without necessity, with-
out result, and with a loss rather than a gain of reputation.
At the same time there is a reverse to the medal, and it may be asserted
with equal truth that bad finance often makes bad foreign policy. When
I say bad finance I mean bad in the sense of neglecting the cardinal
maxim that true economy is based on efficiency, and that a "penny-wise
and pound-foolish " policy succeeds no better with a State than with an
individual. Extravagance, rather than economy, is the certain result of
living in a condition oscillating between periodical panic and periodical
parsimony.
If we inquire what has been the cause of this state of things, the answer
must be that we have felt ourselves to be unprepared, and being unpre-
pared we have been nervous and afraid. Afraid of what ? Practically
there are only two Powers from whom any serious danger can be appre-
hended, Russia and France. The danger from Russia is remote, for she
could neither invade our shores nor contest our naval supremacy. It
resolves itself into the single apprehension that she might attack our
Indian Empire. Now as to this, it is by no means certain that Russia
would menace India if England abandoned the policy of bolstering up
Turkey and thwarting Russia at every point in Eastern Europe. The
Turkish rule in Europe is surely and speedily decaying, and the disposal
of the inheritance is very much more the affair of Austria and Germany
than of England. Any extension of the Russian Empire in this direction
would tend to diminish rather than increase the chances of her undertak-
ing a great war of aggression against India. But suppose the Russopho-
bists are right, and that Russia really does entertain such a project, what
is required to make our Indian frontier, humanly speaking, absolutely
secure ? Simply that we should be able to send there at a short notice
30,000 or 40,000 additional English troops fully equipped and ready for
immediate service. With such a reinforcement added to the English and
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
native armies already there, and the command of the frontier passes, no
one but an amateur strategist planning campaigns on small-scale maps,
can suppose that Russia would undertake such a tremendous enterprise
as that of sending an army hundreds of miles from its base, across the
rugged mountains and warlike tribes of Afghanistan, to attack us.
But the possibility of sending such a force in case of need to India is
a question of English finance, for we cannot throw the cost exclusively on
India without provoking widespread discontent, both by the sense of
injustice and by the pressure of additional taxation.
The Indian question is, however, only one branch of the much larger
question of the naval and military defence of the Empire. To feel secure,
we ought to be in a position where we can command the seas and repel
invasion from any probable enemy ? If it is asked, From what possible
or probable enemy ? the reply must be — from France. France alone is
in a position to menace our shores with invasion, or to contest our naval
supremacy. It may be said that the interests of the two countries in pre-
serving peace are so identical, and the consequences of war to both
would be so disastrous, that a rupture between them is a remote contin-
gency. So it is, no doubt, as far as England is concerned, but unfortu-
nately the history of France leads to a different conclusion. The wars of
Louis XIV. and of Napoleon were wars opposed to the true interests of
France, and ended in disaster; but yet, in quite recent times, we have
seen France engaged in four wars — the Crimean, the Italian, the Mexican
and the German, of each one of which it may be distinctly said that it
was a dynastic war, undertaken for no substantial object affecting the well-
being or safety of the French nation, but, on the contrary, involving a
certain heavy sacrifice of treasure and blood for no sufficient reason, and
with the net result of lowering the place of France in the scale of nations.
They were wars undertaken in defiance of common-sense, for the sole
purpose of consolidating the throne of a political adventurer.
What has happened once may happen again. Administration is so
centralized in France that whoever gets hold of the War and Foreign
Offices in Paris can plunge the nation into war almost without its know-
ing it and against its wish. The temptation to do so for a weak Govern-
ment is always great, for although the majority of sober and sensible men
and of rural electors might be opposed to war, there is always a turbulent
and restless minority in Paris, the large towns, and the Press, whose influ-
ence is more immediately felt, with whom any measure appealing to the
national Chauvinism and promising la gloire would for the moment be
popular. The strong feeling of patriotism also, which is one of the
honorable traits of the French character, would, for a time, induce all
parties to lay aside their differences and support the Government of the
day when once engaged in war.
There is always a danger, therefore, that under any form of government
the man or men at the head of affairs might, if driven to extremities,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 217
follow the example of Louis Napoleon, and seek an escape from domestic
difficulties by involving the country in war. Nor is there any security
that if Germany and her allies seemed too stong to be attacked, England
might not be selected as affording a less dangerous antagonist The
interests of France and England are in contact at so many points — in
Egypt, Madagascar, Newfoundland, and the Pacific — that collisions fre-
quently arise which are smoothed over with difficulty, as in the case of the
New Hebrides, even when both Governments are sincerely desirous of
peace, and which would easily furnish pretexts for war if either Govern-
ment desired it.
The cardinal point, therefore, of English policy ought to be, while
doing all that is possible to maintain friendly relations with France, to
keep in view the possibility of a renewal of the old historical wars between
England and its restless and rival neighbor. To avert such a calamity
the same measures are needed as to protect ourselves from serious dan-
gers in case we are attacked. Our naval supremacy should be so assured
that there is no temptation to attack us, and our home defences such,
that the risk of invasion, in case some of the untried contingencies of
modern warfare gave the enemy a temporary command of the Channel, is
reduced to a minimum.
As regards the home defences the question resolves itself into a better
organization of the reserve forces, fortifying our principal ports and
arsenals, and an increase of the regular army. Above all, we want such
an organization as would insure us against surprise, and enable every man
and gun which appear on paper to find their place at once, and take the
field in a state of efficiency in case of any sudden emergency. As regards
the regular army, the best military authorities seem to agree that the two
army corps, of which we have often heard, in a state of immediate readi-
ness, either for home or foreign service, with proper transport, artillery,
and other appliances, are about what would be sufficient to give reasona-
ble security. Of these one is a question not of additional expense, but
of Irish policy. Without discussing the merits or demerits of this policy,
it is an obvious fact that as long as we maintain a policy hostile to a
great majority of the Irish race at home and abroad, we must support it
by a force of not less than 30,000 soldiers and 15,000 military police,
who, in case of war or apprehension of war, could not be withdrawn, and
are for all practical purposes non-existent for the defence of the Empire.
In addition to the two army corps there is no doubt that we require
more artillery and better organization for the Reserve, Militia, and Vol-
unteer forces, and stronger fortifications to protect our more important
arsenals and seaport towns against sudden attacks. All this costs money,
but after all the main question is to insure our naval supremacy. It is
evident that this is not the case at present We may be a little stronger
than France if the whole naval force of the two countries could be ar-
rayed against each other in a single engagement; but it is a question
218 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
whether we could command, at the same time, both the Channel and
the Mediterranean. Probably the command of the latter would depend
on the side which Italy took in the war, and our safety ought not to
depend on foreign alliances, which we shall be likely to gain if we are
strong and lose if we are weak. But in any case it is pretty clear that
with our present force we could not hope to maintain a permanently
efficient blockade of four or five ports at once, and prevent portions of the
French fleet and cruisers and privateers from escaping and inflicting im-
mense damage on our commerce, and possibly on our coast towns and
colonies. It is the most reckless extravagance to be remitting taxes and
paying off National Debt while this state of things continues.
Who is responsible for it ? The answer may seem to be paradoxical,
but it is nevertheless true: the fault lies mainly with the Treasury.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer is always a powerful, and often the
most powerful, member of the Cabinet, and his interests and preposses-
sions all lie in the direction of cutting down estimates and bringing in
popular Budgets. He is surrounded by officials whose business it is to
criticise all expenditure that admits of being cut down or postponed. It
is a useful and necessary function of Government, and ably discharged by
men of great intelligence and experience at the Treasury whose lives have
been devoted to it It requires a strong man as Chancellor of the Ex-
chequer to emancipate himself from this influence and take a large and
statesmenlike view of necessary expenditure. And it takes a still stronger
man to escape the temptation to earn for himself the character of a sound
financier, and for his Government and party a certain immediate popu-
larity, and to brave the attacks sure to be made upon him by ultra-econo-
mists and political opponents, for the sake of the ultimate and probably
remote results of a really national statesmanship. It is not a question of
party; the same influences effect Conservative as Liberal Governments;
and it has been reserved for the party which is nothing if not Imperialist,
to furnish some of the most recent and extreme instances of this sacrifice
of efficiency to economy, as in the reduction of the Horse Artillery.
There is a mischievous superstition at the Treasury, that the test of
a sound financier is to pay off the National Debt. This question of a
National Debt affords a good illustration of the axiom for which I often
contend, that complicated social problems do not admit of hard-and-fast
solutions. Even the primary proposition that a National Debt is an evil,
obvious as it seems, is by no means necessarily true. The few remaining
countries of the world which have no debts, such as Persia and Morocco,
are scarcely countries with which we should wish to exchange conditions.
The example of the United States shows that a surplus may be almost a
greater embarrassment than a deficit, and more calculated to produce al-
terations of artificial stringency and plethora in the money market. The
fact is that a National Debt has become almost one of the necessities of
a progressive and civilized country. As in the case of a railway com-
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE.
219
pany, if traffic expands, money must be spent on increased plant and ap-
pliances, and if the capital account is rigidily closed, this can only come
out of revenue, and increasing prosperity may mean diminishing divi-
dends. The question is, what is the amount of debt compared with the
resources of the nation ; and how the money is spent, whether unprofit-
ably in useless wars, or wisely in prudent precautions against inevitable
risks, and on objects such as education and sanitation, which promote
the welfare and ultimately the wealth of the community. For it must be
always remembered that the amount of a National Debt is a relative quan-
tity, depending not on absolute figures, but on the ratio which the an-
nual charge bears to the annual income of the country. Thus a debt of
£700,000,000 at 3 per cent, of which the capital cannot be called in, is
practically a smaller debt than one of £400,000,000 at 6 per cent The
rate of interest payable on a debt is, however, a very important factor in
deciding whether it is or is not wise to increase taxation for the purpose
of paying it off. Thus in the case of the United States, which affords the
principal instance of large repayment of debt by excessive taxation, the
repayment has not been effected without great sacrifices. From being
the cheapest the United States have become one of the dearest countries
in the world, the mercantile marine has been almost annihilated, and
protected industries have grown up which threaten serious difficulties.
Experience shows, that Protection may succeed as well as Free Trade in
its earlier stages, while the demand of the home market is more than
sufficient to meet the production. But the time comes when the home
market is glutted, and manufacturers must look to foreign markets for
the sale of part of their commodities. In such markets they cannot com-
pete with the cheaper products of Free Trade countries, and the United
States have already approached this stage.
Notwithstanding these drawbacks the policy pursued by the United
States was probably a wise one, for this decisive consideration predomi-
nated, that at the end of the war their enormous debt carried interest at 6
per cent., while now they can borrow any amount at 3 per cent. Every
£i therefore redeemed by taxation practically paid off £2 of debt
In the case of England this consideration does not apply. The rate
of interest now paid, especially since the recent Conversion, is so low that
there is little to hope from further reductions, and the question of repay-
ing debt may be treated on its own merits, and as one of raising £i by
taxes to pay off £ i of debt. There are two ways of reducing debt — one
by actual repayment, the other by out-growing it Thus, if we take Mr.
Giffen's estimate that the national income, which in 1843 was ^515>°°°)'
ooo a year, is now £1,200,000,000, while the annual charge for the
National Debt has remained stationary, or rather diminished, we have
practically paid off more than half our debt. The total charge maybe
taken at about £25,000,000 a year for interest, and £5,000,000 for
sinking funds in the form of terminable annuities or otherwise. That
220 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
is to say, taking the nominal capital of the debt at £750,000,000, w«
were in 1843 in the position of a man who with an income of £500 a year
owes £750, or a year and a halfs income ; and are now in the position
of one who, with £1200 a year owes the same £750, or less than three-
quarters of a year's income. If the same comparison were carried back
to the close of the war in 1815, it would show that the burden of the Na-
tional Debt is practically four or five times less now than it was then.
In making this comparison it must be remembered also that even if
the ratio of debt to income remains the same, a large debt with a corres-
pondingly large income is a much lighter burden than in the converse
case of a small debt and small resources. Thus, to take an illustration
from private life, a debt of £200 is a very serious affair for a clerk living,
perhaps with a wife and family to support, on a salary of £200 a year ;
while a debt of £20,000 is a mere trifle to a man of £20,000 "a year.
The latter can pay it off with ease out of revenue, and renew it or repay
it by a fresh loan, without the slightest difficulty and at a very moderate
rate of interest ; while to the former it may mean ruin, or a bill of sale of
his effects and usurious interest.
It is clearly, therefore, better for a country to remain with a fixed debt
and outgrow it, than to attempt to pay it off by taxes which fetter trade
and retard the development of industry and wealth. This was substantially
the policy of the great Sir Robert Peel when he imposed the Income-tax,
not for the purpose of paying off debt, but to repeal oppressive taxes and
inaugurate the system of Free Trade under which the Empire has made
such marvellous strides in prosperity that, as Mr. Giffen shows, its aggre-
gate annual income has increased in forty-five years from £515,000,000 to
£1,200,000,000 a year. No one can say that the country would have
been as well off if Sir Robert Peel had adopted the opposite policy, which
a good many amateur financiers and half-formed journalists now call
sound finance, and applied the proceeds of his Income-tax as a sinking
fund. Even Mr. Gladstone, rigid economist as he is, has practically
adopted the same policy as Sir Robert Peel, and his splendid financial
reforms have been carried out by applying surpluses to reduce and sim-
plify taxation, instead of appropriating them to large repayments of debt.
In fact, it is sufficient for a Chancellor of the Exchequer to aim at
avoiding any permanent increase of debt in times of peace. To insure
this, as experience shows that with our extended empire, and the growing
wants of an increasing population, the necessity of occasional drafts on
capital account cannot be avoided, it is wise to frame estimates on the
safe side, and make a moderate provision in the way of sinking funds, so
as to have surpluses in ordinary years to apply in counteracting this ten'
dency towards increase. But this is a very different thing from opposing
an inflexible non possumus to all demands for increased expenditure on
capital account, however indispensable they may be for national safety
and welfare,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE.
221
If, for instance, it should be clearly established that an outlay of, say,
£50,000,000 in addition to the ordinary estimates is absolutely necessary
m order to bring our army and navy up to the standard necessary to
give us reasonable security, there should be no hesitation in raising it by
a loan. The charge for it would not exceed £1,500,000 a year, or less
than one penny in the pound of Income-tax, and the existing sinking
funds are ample to secure us against its being a permanent addition to
the debt. Surely this is better than remaining with our eyes open, only
half insured, risking being involved in great wars menacing our very ex-
istence, and in all probability having to do expensively in a panic what
might have been done efficiently and economically by prudent and timely
preparation.
In view of the necessity for larger expenditure to provide for the
security of the Empire, it is important to consider whether the system of
taxation by which the revenue is raised is such as commends itself to the
intelligence and good sense of the community, and taxes the different
classes fairly in proportion to their several interests. The main argument
of demagogues is to represent the army and navy as institutions by which
poor men are taxed to provide outdoor relief fior scions of the aristocracy.
This is a gross exaggeration, and on the whole there is no civilized coun-
try in which taxation is less unfair and less oppressive than in our own.
A country in which the total effective taxation for Imperial purposes does
not exceed 5 or 6 per cent, of the national income, and in which the
money wages of labor have doubled and their spending power increased
in the last forty years, cannot justly be described as groaning under
excessive taxation. Still there is a certain substratum of truth in the
assertion that the enormous unearned wealth of the country does not pay
as much as it ought towards the defence of the Empire and the main-
tenance of law and order, on which its very existence depends. In order
to form any just opinion on this subject it is indispensable to keep clearly
in view the fundamental distinction, which has been too much overlooked,
between earned and unearned income. The former is a creation of nat-
ural, the latter of artificial law. The former commands a market all over
the world wherever muscles and brains are in request The latter de-
pends to a great extent on rights and privileges, secured by laws which
differ in different ages and countries, and are in this country exceptionally
favorable to the extreme rights of property.
The real difficulty in carrying out such a loan as has been suggested
is not so much in the amount required, as in the impression which pre-
vails that there is no security for the money being properly spent, and
the feeling that our system of taxation is inequitably assessed. As
regards the first point, it is unfortunately only too true that under our pres-
ent system of administration we cannot depend on getting money's worth
for our money. How can it be otherwise when we consider what that
system has been and to a great extent still is ? A long experience of
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
administration, both in the affairs of the State and of private companies, has
taught me this lesson — the great secret both of efficiency and economy is
to have a clear chain of responsibility, so that, if anything goes wrong
you can at once put your finger on the man who is accountable for it.
Having this, and a clear system of accounts, so as to be able to see at
a glance what the results really are, give your officals a free hand and let
them feel that they are sure of your support as long as the results come
out right. And above all avoid frequent changes, and let there be a
reasonable degree of permanence in your policy, so that the heads of de-
partments may know what work they have to do, and how much they
will have to spend, with some tolerable assurance of certainty.
Our existing system violates all these rules. Governments change on
the average every three or four years, and with every change of Ministry
new men come into power at the Admiralty and War Office, who are
selected by Parliamentary considerations, and are as a rule totally inexperi-
enced in the work of the departments over which they preside. With
new men at the head and changes in many of the principal officials, new
views and a new policy are introduced, and a programme is hardly laid
down before it is either expanded to meet gome momentary panic, or
more probably cut down to enable the new Chancellor of the Exchequer
to introduce a Budget contrasting favorably with that of his predecessor.
The object seems to be not to define responsibility, but to conceal it.
The Admiralty, for instance, seems to be constituted with curious inge-
nuity for making it impossible to fix responsibility on any definite individual.
Does a new ironclad refuse to answer her helm or rolls so that she cannot
fire her guns in a seaway, who is to blame ? Is it the naval constructor ?
— but perhaps he was overruled by the Sea Lords, or the First Sea Lord by
the Board, or the Board by the First Lord, or the First Lord by the
Treasury. Very probably the design was sanctioned and the construction
begun in Lord Northbrook's time, and the ship was finished and her defects
discovered under Lord George Hamilton. And what reasonable man
could hold either one First Lord or the other responsible for not being a
heaven-born naval architect, and for adopting plans laid before them by
presumably competent officials ?
So, again, if guns burst, or ships and forts lie idle for want of guns,
whose fault is it ? Scarcely that of the Admiralty, who do not even
manufacture or buy their own guns, but most probably that of the
Chancellor of the Exchequer and Cabinet, who refuse to sanction the
necessary expenditure. Or, again, in the case of dock yards, who knows
exactly what the work costs, and how that cost compares with that of
other countries and of private establishments; and who is responsible for
detecting and preventing waste and extravagance ?
I often think what the result would be if the railway companies
managed their affairs on the same principles as the nation applies to its
naval and military expenditure. Suppose the Brighton Board were turned
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE.
out every three years, and a new Board came in with new views, a new
poiicy, and new men at the head of the locomotive, traffic, and other
great spending departments, how long would it be before expenses went
up and dividends down ?
One great advantage of the system which I advocate would be that
such a loan would almost of necessity introduce a better system of admin-
istration. It would not be sanctioned without a definite and well-con-
sidered programme of the purposes to which it was to be applied. So
many ironclads ; so many cruisers and torpedo-vessels, of such tonnage
and speed, and at such estimated cost per annum, until the required
number was completed ; and so forth for forts, batteries, and other
requisites for an efficient army. And this definite expenditure would
have to be carried out by individuals, or by small special commissions,
which would be selected for their fitness and practical experience in their
respective departments, whose tenure of office was independent of Parlia-
mentary changes, and who knew beforehand for five or six years what
work they were expected to do and what money they would have to do it
with. Of course the general supervision and control would remain of
the Cabinet Ministers at the head of the departments, and the ultimate
control of Parliament would not be affected. But there would be a prac-
tical assurance that so long as the programme was being properly carried
out it would not be interfered with ; and with a clear system of accounts
showing the results year by year, the control of Parliament would really
be greater than when matters are so muddled up that it is almost impos-
sible to say what the actual results are, and, if they are unsatisfactory,
who is responsible.
The next question is, whether the burden of taxation is equitably
assessed on the different classes and interests.
Taking Mr. Giffen's estimate of the national income and its sources, in
1884 the total was £1,200,000,000 a year, of which £400,000, ooo was
unearned income from capital, and £800,000,000 working income, £180,-
000,000 of the latter being derived from professional and trading incomes
above £150 a year included in the Income-tax, and £6 20, ooo, ooo from
working incomes of lower amount, principally consisting of wages.
Measured by income, therefore, the unearned is one-third, and the earned
two-thirds of the total amount. But it must be remembered that the
unearned third is derived from realized property, and is worth on the
average perhaps twenty year's purchase, while the unearned two-thirds is
precarious, depending on life, health, employment, and a hundred other
contingencies. Without attempting any detailed estimate, it is evident
that the value of the unearned property, which requires a higher insurance
against risks, far exceeds that of the property which is earned by work,
and that it ought to pay its fairly corresponding share of the premium
which is required to cover those risks adequately.
Let us see now how the national revenue to provide for national
224
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
expenditure is actually raised. Taking the average expenditure of the
last three or four years in round figures, it is about £90,000.000 a year,
of which
£30,000,000 is for National Debt interest and sinking fund,
30,000,000 for naval and military defence,
20,000,000 for civil administration,
10,000,000 for expenses of collection of revenue.
£90,000,000
This is met by
Post Office, telegraphs, &c., which are mainly payments for services ren.
dered ..................... £10,000,000
Crown lands and interest on advances, &c., which are not taxes .... 1,500,000
Miscellaneous, which are mainly matters of account, and fees for services
rendered ................... 3,500,000
Revenue which is not taxation ....... £15,000,000
Leaving in round figures £75,000,000, which is raised by taxes as follows,
viz. —
Customs .................... £21,000,000
Excise ..................... 27,000,000
Stamps and taxes, including probate and succession duties .... 15,000,000
Income-tax ................ ... 12,000,000
£75,000,060
Continuing the analysis more closely we find —
TAXES MAINLY PAID BY THE NON-PROPERTIED CLASSES.
Alcohol — Home spirits .......... £14,000,000
Foreign spirits .......... 4,500,000
Beer ............. 8,500,000
Licences ............ 3,500,000
. 500,000
Tobacco .................. ". . 9,000,000
Tea and coffee .......... . ....... 5,000,000
Total ............... £44,500,000
TAXES PAID EXCLUSIVELY OR PRINCIPALLY BY THE PROPERTIED CLASSES.
Income-tax . . * ..... £12,000,000 (but of this nearly one-half according to
Giffen's estimate, is paid by trading,
professional, and other working in-
comes).
Probate and succession duties . . £8,000,000
Deeds ......... 2,000,000
AsM-s^d taxes ....... 3,000,000
Wines ......... 2.000,000
£27,000,000
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 225
Leaving about £3,500,000, which is raised mainly by taxes affecting
trade, such as bills of exchange, receipt stamps, railways, marine insur-
ances, &c.
As far as can be ascertained by the aid of Mr. Giffen's figures, the
amount paid specially by unearned income does not exceed £15,000,000
to £20,000,000 a year out of a total Imperial taxation of £75,000,000.
The mere statement of the figures is sufficient to show that this is not
a sufficient proportion. Without proposing any Radical or Socialistic
change in our fiscal system, it is evident that such a tax as that on tea
ought not to be maintained to enable unearned income to escape from
paying a larger share of taxation. The tea duty combines almost every
conceivable disadvantage. It discourages temperance, restricts the
development of an important industry in our colonies, and presses with
special severity on the unrepresented and weaker female half of the popu-
lation, whose interests we are bound to consider. The first step towards
a really national Budget of the future ought to be to repeal this tax, and
make up the deficiency by equalizing and increasing the duties on all
property alike, real or personal, which passes by gift or succession, and is
therefore clearly unearned. The additional cost of providing for an
efficient navy and army, including the interest and sinking fund of any
loan raised for the purpose, ought also to fall mainly on this class, though
a portion of it might properly be provided by a temporary reduction of
the large amount of sinking fund applied to the redemption of debt.
As regards the manner in which taxation should reach this class of
unearned incomes there are two ways possible : one to reform the In-
come-tax on the broad, simple principle of observing a distinction be-
tween earned and unearned income, and making the latter pay at a higher
rate ; the other, that of making a large addition to the succession duties,
especially on all property which did not go to make a moderate provision
for widows and children. Or perhaps both plans might be adopted,
though I incline to think that the greater part of any increased taxation
on unearned property should take the form of a heavier duty when it
passes and repasses for the first time into the hands of those who have
done nothing to earn it. A higher rate of Income-tax on unearned than
on precarious income would be fairer in principle, and would remove
much of the discontent with the tax which makes Chancellors of the
Exchequer court popularity by reducing it, and it would be very desir-
able to introduce it
On the other hand, a heavy succession duty is paid once for all in a
lifetime, and those who come into land or money by the fortunate acci-
dent of having been born, have no reason to complain if their windfall
turns out to be somewhat less than it would have been if they could have
kept the whole and transferred the burden to their less fortunate brethren
who have nothing but what they have worked for.
It is, however, in regard to local taxation that the distinction between
226 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
earned and unearned income is of most importance. Let me give a
practical instance of what is meant by the " unearned increment."
There is a mountain valley in Wales the value of which for agricult-
ural purposes might be at the outside £800 a year. But coal and iron
were discovered in it ; a set of capitalists took a lease, sunk pits, and
erected works, and a town sprang up. The first and second set of capi-
talists lost their money ; and about £1,000,000 was sunk in the concern,
which ultimately passed into the hands of a third set for about £200,000,
and with this reduced capital is now a fairly flourishing company. But
all the time wages were paid, and the population increased until it num-
bered over 8000.
As regards the landlord the result was this : that his £800 was con-
verted into £8000 a year, which has been punctually paid through good
times and bad, and represents a capitalized value of probably £160,000.
This is as purely a stroke of luck as if he had won the amount at Monte
Carlo or by backing a Derby winner ; indeed, more so, for in that case
he must have stood to loose as well as to win, while in this actual instance
he risked nothing. Again, he would not have received this windfall if
the law of England had been like that of many other countries, in which
minerals below the soil belong to the State or the Commune. Surely
in such a case as this the unearned increment ought to contribute
largely towards the local rates for providing sewers, water supply, schools,
and other requisites of civilized existence in the town to which the owner
of the soil was indebted for this enormous increase of his wealth.
The same thing applies with equal force to the immense unearned
increment which has accrued to the fortunate owners of the soil from the
growth of industry and population in large towns. It ought to contrib-
ute largely towards local rates, and be held under conditions not fixed
solely by the landlord's right to make the most he can of his own, but by
a due regard for the welfare of the community by which the additional
value of the property has been created.
To sum up : if, to use a bold figure of speech, I were Chancellor of
the Exchequer, I should look forward to framing a "Budget of the
future " on something like the following lines ;
1. To equalize the succession duties on real and personal property,
and raise the amount to a sufficient figure to enable me to repeal
the tax on tea.
2. To reform the Income-tax on the principle of charging a higher
rate on unearned than on earned income.
3. To assign the " unearned increment "in towns and from mines
and royalities to Local Boards, as a subject for local taxation
within equitable limits, in aid of rates for local purposes.
4. To raise by loan a sufficient sum (say £50,000,000) to be spent
over five or six years in placing the army and navy, but espe-
cially the navy, on a footing which, according to a programme
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 227
prepared by practical authorities, would be sufficient to place the
defences of the Empire on to a reasonably secure footing.
5. To intrust the carrying out of this programme, under the super-
vision of Government and of Parliament, to permanent Com-
missions of the best practical men in each department, with
large powers and clearly-defined responsibilities.
6. To provide for the interest and sinking fund of this loan by ap-
propriating to it the saving from the recent Conversion of Na-
tional Debt and a slight reduction of the sinking fund now ap-
propriated towards paying off its capital.
CHAPTER XIV.
POPULATION AND FOOD.
Malthusian theory that population tends to increase faster than
-L food is one which, at first sight, seems to commend itself by the
mere statement The particular ratio of increase may not be exactly that
of geometrical to arithmetical progression, but the general fact appears to
be incontestible that a single pair, whether of the human or of any other
animal race, would in a comparatively short time increase and multiply
beyond any conceivable increase in the supply of food available for their
support from a limited area. It is, in fact, only a particular instance of
that struggle for life, which Darwin has shown to be going on throughout
all branches of creation, and which ends in the weaker going to the wall,
and the survival of the fittest. It is illustrated clearly in the animal world
as by the swarms of rabbits which, in a few years have overrun the pastures
of Australia and New Zealand, from the progeny of single pairs.
And yet when we come to test the theory by facts, nothing can be
more evident than that in the recent history of the civilized nations of
Europe and America, the direct contrary has taken place, and food has
increased faster than population. Take the instance of England. The
population of Great Britan has increased in less than a century from fifteen
to over thirty millions, and yet it is clearly demonstrated by statistics that
each one of the thirty millions gets a far larger average share of food and
other commodities than fell to the lot of the smaller number.
Bread, the staff of life, has fallen with the price of wheat to a far lower
level than it stood at when the population was half the present amount,
and what is even more important, instead of fluctuating widely from year
to year, the price remains nearly uniform at this low level. The quantity
of wheat and flour imported from foreign countries has risen in less than
50 years from 42 Ibs. per head of the smaller, to 220 Ibs. per head of the
larger population; that of bacon and hams from almost nothing to 14
Ibs. per head; of cheese, from i to 6 Ibs.; of eggs, from 4,000,000 to
22, 000,000; and of other articles of consumption, such as tea, sugar, butter,
and rice, in proportion. Butcher's meat alone has slightly risen in price,
and this is being reduced by the importation of frozen carcasses from the
United States, Canada, the Argentine Republic, Australia and New
Zealand.
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 229
At the same time, while prices have greatly fallen, the purchasing
power of the community has been largely augmented. The average
money wages of the laboring classes have nearly doubled, deposits
in savings banks have increased from £16,000,000, to over £80,000,-
ooo and each id. in the pound of income-tax produces £2,000,000
instead of £1,000,000.
In America, the refutation of the Malthusian theory has been even
more signal. The population of the United States has increased in
little more than a century from six to sixty millions, fully realizing
the rate of increase by geometrical progression assumed by Malthus.
And yet the production of food has increased so much more rapidly,
that not only are the sixty millions better fed than any other nation
in the world, but a surplus remains for exportation, which feeds
probably not less than fifteen or twenty millions of mouths in foreign
countries.
How is a fact to be explained, which stands in such flat contra-
diction to what seems at first sight an almost self-evident theory?
The answer is obvious. The increased command over the powers
of nature given by the practical application of modern science, has
not only increased the productiveness of limited areas, but what is
more important, has by means of railways, steamers, and telegraphs,
enormously extended the area from which supplies can be drawn.
Wheat grown and cattle reared one thousand miles west of Chicago,
reach Liverpool and London as cheaply as they used to do from an
English or Scotch county.
India, Australia, New Zealand, California, and the Argentine
States pour their surplus food products into the markets of Europe.
The compound marine engine cheapens freights, and lower freights
bring with them lower rents, agricultural depression, and a serious
aggravation of the Irish question. At the same time the same
agencies triple and quadruple the power of producing commodities
wherewith to buy food, by the consuming nations which no longer
grow enough on their own soil to feed their population.
As long as this goes on, progress continues ; a larger number of
human souls live in the world, and the vast majority of them live
better. We can afford to dismiss Malthus and his theory to a remote
future, and look on it as a bogey no more affecting practical action
than the prospect of the world coming to an end by the dissipation
in space of solar heat.
But is it really so ? The Irish famine is there to teach us a sharp
lesson, that under given circumstances three millions out of eight
of a population may disappear from the effects of famine and pesti-
lence brought about by overcrowding. True the circumstances were
exceptional, and traceable to a considerable extent to bad laws and
had government, but when we come to look closer into the matter
we shall find that this inexorable law of Malthus is not reversed or
repealed, but merely suspended, and hangs like the sword of
Damocles by a thread over the head of future generations.
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Behind the steam-plows and reaping-machines, behind the rail-
ways and steamers, lies the fundemental fact that there must be a
reserve of unoccupied land on which to employ them.
Suppose all North America west of the Great Lakes and the
Mississsippi had been an arid desert like the Sahara, where would
have been the food-products on which so many millions in the Old
and New Worlds depend for their daily bread ? No competition of
railways, no improvement of steamers could have brought wheat,
flour, beef, and pork from regions where they were not produced.
Nor could they be exported in continually increasing quantities
from countries where surplus land was getting scarce, and the native
population was already beginning to press closely on the means of
subsistence. In a comparatively few years cultivation will have
spread up to the base of the Rocky Mountains, and there will be an
urban population of ten or fifteen millions to feed in Chicago, St.
Louis, and other cities of the West; while New York, Boston,
Philadelphia, and the great manufacturing and mining Eastern and
Middle States will constantly require larger supplies.
It is stated in a recent article in the Century Magazine, that the
total arable and pasture land in the United States is estimated at
960,000,000 acres, of which 700,000,000 has been already taken up,
leaving only 260,000,000 acres, which will certainly be all appro-
priated in a few years, while the population, at the present rate of
increase, will be 120,000,000 by the year 1920. The United States,
therefore, will in a very few years be brought face to face with the
difficult problem, " a rapidly increasing population, and all the arable
land in the hands of private owners."
When we come to survey the extent of the remaining reserve of
land on which the fabric of progressive civilized society so mainly
depends, it is startling to find how little of it is left. By far the
greater portion of the earth's surface is excluded, either by climate
or by prior occupation. In the Old World scarcely anything is left.
Tropical regions are, for obvious reasons, unavailable, either as fields
for emigration or for producing a supply of the staple foods required
for the support of the principal white races. The highlands of
Central Africa might possibly support a white population, but they
are already occupied by native races. So also is South Africa,
except to a limited extent at its southern extremity. Central and
Eastern Asia are either desert and mountain, or occupied by the
already swarming millions of India and China. The vast territory
of the Russian empire is wanted for the rapidly increasing popu-
lation of Russians, which, in Russia in Europe alone, has risen in
less than a century from thirty-five to eighty-eight millions. The
climate. of Siberia is too rigorous, the distance by land too great,
and the Arctic Ocean too inaccessible for it to become a great grain-
exporting country. Western Asia, formerly the seat of a dense
population, great cities, and active commerce, remains a comparative
desert under Turkish rule. But even here the difficulty of prior
occupation exists, and although the governments might be got rid
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 231
of, it would not be so easy to dispose of the twenty or thirty millions
of Turks, Arabs, and Persians who already occupy, however
sparsely, the regions which, down to the fall of the Roman Empire,
supported such a vast population.
In Europe it is obvious that all the principal States are already
overcrowded, in the sense of having no reserves of land, and a larger
population than the soil can supply with food. It is only on the
Lower Danube, and in some parts of European Turkey, that some
reserves still remain, and these are to an extent quite inappreciable
as compared with the wants of Western Europe, and not more than
will be filled up in a generation or two by the Bulgarian and other
native Christian races.
America and Australia remain ; but here it must be observed, that
for providing the surplus population of Europe with food, only those
districts are available which produce what may be called the staff of
life. Practically this means wheat-growing districts. Thus Brazil
may produce coffee and sugar, Florida oranges, and Southern Cali-
fornia grapes and peaches ; but valuable as these are as luxuries, and
as articles of commerce, people can not live on them ; and to go on
as we are going, we want cheap and ever-increasing supplies of
bread and meat. Even the great ranges of pasture land which support
vast herds and flocks in America and Australia supply a very small
per centage of food per acre, compared with the arable lands which
grow the cereals and fatten pigs and cattle.
These may be defined generally as the wheat-producing belt.
When this is exhausted, no increase of tropical products, and no
extension of commerce and manufactures can arrest the inevitable
result of an increasing population.
Now of this the area is limited and is rapidly being filled up. The
largest supply has hitherto come from the states east of the Missis-
sippi, Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan. But these, which used
to be the Western, have now become Central States, and the mass
of food products, of which Chicago is the centre, comes from new
Western states, such as Iowa, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Kansas.
The agricultural portion of the United States is very near advanc-
ing further west, through new states and territories, towards the
base of the Rocky Mountains, and has overleapt these, and brought
California, Oregon, and Washington territory into the position
occupied by the older states not twenty years ago of food-exporting
districts.
The centre of gravity, as it has been called, of the population of
the United States, which a century ago was almost on the Atlantic,
is now west of Cincinnati, and is moving uniformly westwards at the
average rate of about five miles per annum ; while the advanced
guard of cultivation is moving still more rapidly towards the Rocky
Mountains on a broad frontage from Texas to Dakota ; while the
Pacific states, California and Oregon, are filling: rp with even greater
rapidity. As we have already seen, the United States will in a very
231 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
few years be brought face to fact with Malthus's theory of a popu-
lation growing by geometrical progression to an amount which no
longer leaves any unoccupied land available for the production of
surplus food.
Fortunately a very large reserve of land remains in the north-
western districts of Canada, for experience has shown that, owing to
the bending of the isothermal lines to the south, an immense extent
of territory, reaching almost to the Polar Sea, which was recently
thought to be as barren as the tundras of Siberia, is in reality capable
of producing fine crops of wheat. The report of the Canadian
Senate Committee of 1888 estimates the area adapted for the culti-
vation of wheat in this territory at 202,240,000 acres, and that
adapted for pasture 512,000,000 acres, making a total reserve equal
to that of the whole original territory of the United States, and
promising a long respite before the inexorable pinch of Malthus's
law is fully felt.
But the growth of an urban and manufacturing population is
increasing with such rapidity in the New World, that the home
market will soon absorb the greater part of the home produce.
Chicago does not add 100,000 to its population every ten years with-
out consuming more of the bread and meat which would be other-
wise exported; and the same may be said of St. Louis, Pittsburg,
Cincinnati, Cleveland, and the numerous large cities and industrial
centres which are everywhere springing up in the States, which have
been reclaimed from the Indian and the buffalo. And in Canada
itself the same process is going on, though not so rapidly. Say that
the United States will, in the next fifty years, have increased its
population from 60,000,000 to 120,000,000, how much surplus food
will remain over for exportation to Europe ?
The tendency of population to accumulate in towns, and the
increasing proportion of industrial to agricultural pursuits which are
such marked features in England, are already producing similar
effects in America. A century ago less than four per cent, of the
total population of the United States lived in towns, the rest living
in the country, and being mainly agricultural. Today about twenty-
five per cent, of the population of the United States is urban, and of
the remainder a large and increasing number live by industrial
pursuits other than agriculture. In all the older States, such as
Pennsylvania, New York, and New England, the number of food-
consumers far exceeds that of food-producers, and a large propor-
tion of the native population migrates westwards every year in
search of land on which to settle. Even Central States, like Ohio,
are becoming too densely settled for an agricultural population, and
sending out contingents to swell the flood of westward emigration.
Europe also continues to pour in an enormous flood of emigration.
During the last fifty years upwards of 10,000,000 of Euro-
pean emigrants have landed in the United States, of whom
about 3,500,000 have come from Germany, and an equal
number form Ireland. Many of these have settled on land,
or become agricultural laborers, while others have taken
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 233
the places of native-born Americans who have become food-producers.
Thus the existence of this vast field for emigration has benefited the old
countries, both by affording an outlet for their surplus population, and
by increasing the production of the world's surplus food. But this,
again, depends on the existence of surplus land, and the operation of
such powerful causes tends every day to use it up.
Already the approaching scarcity of land is showing itself by a great
rise in the market value of real estate throughout the United States. It
is not too much to say, that the price per acre of cultivated land, or land
fit for cultivation from soil, climate, and proximity to any one of the
four or five great railways which now span the continent, has risen on the
average thirty or forty per cent in the last three or four years, and in
California the rise has been even greater. Railways are to a great extent
responsible for this result ; but while they tend, in the first instance, to
increase largely the area of emigration and production, they accelerate
the process by which reserves are used up, and the progress of population
overtakes that of surplus food. Assuming with Malthus that the ratio
between the two is that of geometrical to arithmetical progression, it is
certain that, although with a large common difference, the latter may at
first outstrip the former, it will soon be left far behind. Thus if we take
the series
Population, 2, 4, 8, 1 6, 32, 64, 128
Food 2, 12, 22, 32, 42, 52, 62
it is evident that while for the first five terms of the series food keeps ahead,
and the condition of the population improves, after the fifth term the
proportion between them is reversed, and very soon becomes one in
which existence would be impossible without some very severe and far-
reaching checks on the natural rate of increase of births over deaths. It
is probable that we are not very far removed now from the third or fourth
stage of this progression, and the next generation or the one after will
have to face very seriously the question of what checks nature has pro-
vided, and what measures it will be necessary to take to prevent, or miti-
gate as far as possible, the inevitable results of the struggle for existence.
In the first place, however, it is necessary to consider what prospect
there may be of increasing the supply of food produced in the older
countries. I am afraid it is very little. England might conceivably sup-
port a larger agricultural population if it were cut up into small holdings
of five or ten acres each. But manifestly this could only be done by
lowering the general average scale of living, and descending from wheat
to potatoes. To support a family by farming in decency and comfort, and
have a surplus produce to sell, it is essential, under our conditions of soil
and climate, that farms should be large enough to admit of cultivation by
the plow and a rotation of crops. This means that there must be at
least five or six fields of five or six acres each— two in grain, one in green
234 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
crops, one in sown grass or clover for hay, and two in permanent or second
year grass or fallow. Thirty or forty acres is therefore the minimum size
of farms on which an agricultural population can live up to the standard
of well paid laborers and artisans, unless in a few exceptional cases of
market gardens and holdings near large towns; and any further subdivision
on an extensive scale would only land us in the state of Ireland.
Cottage allotments are often excellent things as a supplement to labor,
but as the sole support of a large population they can only lead to one
result, that of semi-starvation on half rations of potatoes. Moreover, the
question is not one of food only, but of surplus food. If four or five
millions more could live on the soil of England if cut up into small hold-
ings by consuming their own produce, what would become of the remain-
ing millions who are not agriculturists, and half of whom are now fed by
the surplus produce of British agriculture ? Large farms may not produce
so much in the aggregate as the same area would do in small holdings,
though this is doubtful, but it is beyond doubt that they produce more
surplus for sale, after feeding those who are actually employed. And
there is no doubt also that, as in Ireland, a population living poorly on
small holdings tends to increase more rapidly than the normal rate under
more favorable conditions.
It is a formidable question also, how long we can depend on the out-
let for a surplus population which is afforded by emigration. Already the
countries which have given a hospitable reception to so many millions of
the poorer class of emigrants are beginning to show an unwillingness to
receive an unlimited amount of cheap labor. The United States prohibit
the importation of Chinese, and are becoming more particular every day
as to the admission of destitute European emigrants. The Australian
colonies are ceasing to tax themselves in order to assist emigration, and
Canada and New Zealand are almost the only colonies left where a farther
influx of emigrants seems to be desired. Even here there is no opening
for the paupenzed classes whom, in our own interest, we should be most
anxious to get rid of. Emigration will doubtless go on, for, as we see in
the case of Ireland, with many millions of Irish already settled in new
countries, and the passage reduced to a question of ten days in time and
£5 in money, there is an irresistible tendency impelling the Irish of old
Ireland to follow in the footsteps of their friends and relations. Labor,
like water, seeks to find its level, and nothing but invincible barriers of
ignorance and repressive legislation can prevent men going from a country
where wages are a shilling to one where they are a dollar a day. But
there is danger that by this process the old countries may be gradually
drained of the most able-bodied, intelligent, and energetic portion of their
population, and left with more and more of an unmanageable residuum.
We must recollect also that the rapid rate of increase which has tripled the
population of England during the present century has gone on concur-
rently with this tide of emigration, and unless it were to flow with increased
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 235
rapidity, each succeeding generation would find us with an ever-increas-
ing surplus of mouths to feed, unless either the death-rate or the birth-
rate were materially altered. And the same thing applies not to England
only, but to every European country except France. Russia is rapidly
filling up her immense empire; Germany, Italy, and Belgium are full to
overflowing, and send out swarms of emigrants; Spain sends a surplus to
Buenos Ayres; Portugal to Brazil.
We must look, therefore, to external checks to maintain the balance
between food and population in the not far distant time when the world's
reserves of arable land are approaching towards exhaustion.
Of such checks the general remark may be made, that in modern
history they all tend to operate with diminishing force, so that the nat-
ural increase of population is continually accelerated. What were the
checks which, in retracing the history of the human race, we find to have
been principally operative ? Infanticide, war, pestilence, and famine.
Infanticide has long since died out, except among a few savage tribes,
though it can be traced as once an important operating cause in the tra-
ditions of polyandry and descent through the female line, which point
to a deficiency in the female population only to be accounted for by fe-
male infanticide. But we can no more look to it as a possible check in
the future than we can to a reversion to the stone implements of our pa-
laeolithic ancestors. War has been in all ages a principal, and is still an
important check. But apart from the outcome of the growing feeling
that war is for the most part a mistake, the conditions of modern warfare
have so greatly changed that even great wars no longer play the import-
ant part they once did in checking population. In the first place they
are much shorter. A thirty years' war devastating all Central Europe,
and throwing its civilization back for a couple of generations, is no longer
possible. Invasions of barbarians like those of Goths, Huns, and Turks,
which reduced populous provinces to deserts, are no longer to be feared.
Contrast the invasion of Attila which rolled westward to Chalons, over
the plains of Champagne, with the advance of the Germany army only
the other day over the same line of march. Burning towns and villages,
slaughtered heaps of their inhabitants, droves of captive women and
children, marked the line of the Hunnish advance ; while in the Franco-
German war we read of the peasant girls of Champagne standing un-
alarmed at their cottage doors to gaze on the Crown Prince and his brill-
iant staff.
Even the gigantic wars of the first Napoleon produced no very per-
ceptible or permanent effect on the population of Europe A certain
ni. Tiber of able-bodied men were swept away, but their removal left room
for others, the rising generations married a little earlier and the population
grew up almost as rapidily as the grass over the blood-stained fields of
Borodino and Waterloo. It is a remarkable fact that the rate of increase
of the population of England was highest in the first twenty years of the
236 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
present century, during fifteen years of which \ve were engaged in a gigan-
tic war with Napoleon. The vast standing armies of recent years are fed
mainly by recruits taken at an early age from the population, and restored
to it, invigorated in mind and body, after a short service of three or four
years. Germany, with its three millions of soldiers, may show signs of
financial pressure, but none hitherto of declining population.
Pestilence in times past has played a great part in keeping down ex-
cess of population. The black death in the reign of Edward III. is re-
ported to have swept away nearly a third of the population of England,
and to this day large parish churches, often standing within a stone's
throw of one another, in Norfolk, testify to the existence of a dense pop-
ulation where now there are only a few large farmers and agricultural
laborers. The sweating sickness, plague, and small-pox also counted
their victims by millions, and defective sanitary arrangements kept the
death-rate high almost down to the present day. But science and sani-
tation, aided by better food, clothing, and lodging, have of late years
rapidly brought down and are still bringing down the death-rate, and even
since the tables of the principal Life Assurances Offices were framed,
the average duration of life has been lengthened by from five to ten per
cent.
Famine remains, and in some of the Eastern countries of old civiliza-
tion and dense population it is still the main check by which Nature
asserts the inexorable law of the struggle for existence. But in European
countries generally, the establishment of settled order, the accumulation
of wealth, and above all the improvement of communications, have for a
long time past prevented scarcity from degenerating into famine. Eng-
land especially, as long as present conditions continue, and there is sur-
plus food left anywhere in the world, is not likely to see famine an effec-
tive operating cause in checking the advance of population.
In one instance, however, at our own doors and in our own days, we
have seen that Nature, "red in tooth and claw," asserts its inevitable
laws even by this extreme and cruel remedy. The redundant population
of Ireland has been reduced from eight to five millions by famine, and its
results, fever and forced emigration. There has been no such destruction
of life and arrest of the progress of population since the black death.
The causes no doubt were exceptional, and we can place our fingers on
them. Long years of oppression, bad legislation, and a vicious land
system led to the multiplication of a pauper population reduced to the
very lowest subsistence on the precarious potato, with the life-blood of
the country, which should have accumulated capital in the form of the
multiplied little savings of individual cultivators, drained from them by
alien and absentee landlords ; and all hope, providence, and energy
crushed out of them by the knowledge that they were liable to be rack-
rented on their own improvements.
This important lesson may be learned from the experience of Ireland,
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 237
that when a population is brought down, by unfavorable circum-
stances, to a very low standard of food and comfort, the immediate
tendency is not to retard but to accelerate the rate of increase.
Where there is nothing to look forward to from providence, pru-
dential restraints on early marriages cease to operate. In fact, as
far as they operate at all they operate the other way, for the only
chance for a man plunged in hopeless poverty is to have grown-up
sons and daughters able to help him when he is getting old and past
work. Half the population of Ireland who are tenants of small
holdings, have for years past only been able to live and pay rents so
as to keep a roof over their heads, by the aid of remittances from
members of the family who had emigrated to America and Australia.
Thus, as the condition of a people deteriorates, and food and employ-
ment become scarce, the pent-up fires accumulate more rapidly
until nature relieves itself by some great explosion.
This brings us to the practical consideration of what is likely to
happen in the future. As long as present conditions continue, and
the reserve of food-producing land remains unexhausted, it is
probable that England will progress and prosper. The condition of
Ireland will improve by better legislation, and England and Scotland
have such resources in their mineral wealth, their facilities of com-
munication, their accumulated capital, and in the character and
industrial aptitudes of their people, that as long as there is any
surplus food in the world they will get the lion's share of it. The
rate of progress is not even likely to slacken until we approach more
nearly to the exhaustion of the world's reserves. More poverty
there may be, for if five per cent, be a fair average of failures in
the struggle for existence, owing to weakness of mind or body,
unfavorable surroundings, and ill luck, five per cent, on forty millions
is a larger figure than five per cent, was on twenty millions. But I see
no reason to doubt that for many years to come the mass of the popu-
lation will eat as good or better food, be paid as high or higher
wages, work as short or shorter hours, deposit as much or more
money in Savings Banks and Provident Societies, as they do at
present. And although it is never safe to prophesy unless you
know, it is not a very hazardous prediction that each id in the
pound of income-tax will give future Chancellors of the Exchequer
a larger rather than a smaller contribution to the national revenue.
Foreign competition does not much alarm me, for the inevitable
tendency of manufacturing and mining labor in France, Germany,
and Belgium must be to level up towards our standard, or else to
explode in strikes and socialist revolutions, to which they are all
much nearer than we are in this country. If we are behind any other
nation, as for instance Germany, in technical education, we can and
will apply a remedy, and with equal brains and more money we are
not likely to be long outstripped in anything which intelligence and
capital can cure.
The only really formidable competition I can imagine in the near
238 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
future would be from the United States of America, if they ever
came to adopt President Cleveland's policy of taxing no free citizen
for more than his share of necessary national expenditure, and thus
incidentally were brought to abandon Protection. We should then
have to compete in foreign markets with a people fully equal to our
own in all essential qualities, and with the advantage of being more
adaptable, more inventive, more eager to get on, and less under the
influence of routine and prejudice; while in certain respects nature
gives them an advantage, as in growing their own cotton, and having
larger reserves of land and larger deposits of coal and iron. Even
here, however, it is probable that competition would lead rather to
the diversion of certain branches of our foreign trade into other
channels and the substitution of others, than to a diminution of its
aggregate amount, and there would be a large compensation to us
from throwing open a market of sixty millions of people which is
now greatly restricted by prohibitory tariffs.
It is not therefore in the near future that I anticipate any of the
dangers and difficulties of a redundant population, but the present
rate of progress cannot last for ever, and our prosterity, if not in
one, then in a few generations, will eventually have to face them.
The latest statistics, those of Professor Levasseur, show that since
1800 the population has increased
MILLION a
In the United Kingdom from . . . . 1&/2 to 37.
Russia in Europe 35 to 88.
German Empire 27 to 47.
while he estimates that between 1810 and 1874 the entire population
of the world increased from 682,000,000 to 1,391,000 or about
doubled. If anything like this rate of increase were maintained for
another century, nature will obviously have to provide remedies.
Can we foresee what these remedies will be when reserves of land
are approaching exhaustion and supplies of food begin to fail?
Scarcely, for in these cases evolution works by its own laws rather
than by any logical deduction of philosophers or politicians, and
all we know is that there will be a " struggle for existence," and
that " the fittest will survive." Still we may gather dimly from
present and past experience, that there are two directions from
which the inevitable checks may be expected to come. One from
a diminution of the birth-rate owing to fewer and later marriages,
as the result of education and improved conditions. We have seen
in the case of Ireland that poverty tends to accelerate the birth-rate,
and commonly the well-to-do and upper classes scarcely keep up
their numbers unless recruited from below. As the mass of the
population rise to a higher standard of respectability and comfort
they will be less ready to risk falling below that standard by con-
tracting early and imprudent marriages. The possession of prop-
erty also, especially of property in land, is, as we may see in France,
a powerful factor in chicking the progress of population. In that
PROBLEMS OF THE FUTURE. 239
country, while the population of England, Germany, and Russia has
more than doubled, the increase has only been during the same time
from 33,000,000 to 38,000,000. Should these checks prove insuffi-
cient, I confess I can see no other outcome than an increase of the
death-rate on a large scale, such as might come from the combina-
tion of war, pestilence, and famine, which would result from a
general upheaval of the dangerous and discontented classes of the
community, owing to distress and demagogic excitement. Society
is safe enough against any irruption of outer barbarians, but it is
not so safe against its own barbarians, who are accumulating in the
slums of its great cities. Or rather, it is safe as long as it has only
these barbarians to deal with, but not so safe if these are reinforced
by multitudes of honest and well-intentional men, who are driven
desperate by the difficulty of getting " a fair day's wages for a fair
day's work."
The history of the Commune in Paris may be a lesson to us of the
amount of death and destruction which might be occasioned by such
an uprising. A month of such a Commune in London would bring
about such a destruction of capital and credit as would throw mil-
lions out of employment, and reduce them to the dire necessity of
cutting one another's throats or starving. Fortunately such a result
is far distant, and at any rate we have the consolation of knowing,
that if the States of civilized Europe are to be swallowed up by such
a Polyphemus, our lot, like that of the man of many resources, the
wise and much-enduring Ulysses, will probably come last. The tide
of empire and civilization has hitherto followed the sun and flowed
westward. It has reached the shores of the Atlantic and crossed
ever to the New World. When that New World is fully occupied,
and the human tide reaches the Pacific, what will happen ? Will it,
like the army of lemmings in Lapland, march ever westward until it
topples over into the ocean ? We can only answer, it is a " Prob-
lem of the Future."
THE END.
THE WISDOM OF LIFE
By Arthur Schopenhauer
TRANSLATED WITS A PREFACE BT
T. BAILEY SAUNDERS, M. A.
fitam impendtrt v*r».— JUVHHAL.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGB.
TBANSLATOB'S PBEFACE, . 245
INTRODUCTION 261
I. Drvisroj o* THE SUBJECT » ,. . 263
II. PEBSONALITY, OB WHAT A MAN is ........ 263
III. PBOPEBTY, OB WHAT A MAN HAS 270
IV. POSITION, OB A MAN'S PLACE IN THE ESTIMATION OF OTHEBS —
Sect. 1. Reputation 294
" 2. Pride 299
" 3. RanK 801
" 4. Honor 301
" 5. Fame «2*
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
O CHOPENHAUER is one of the few philosophers who can be gen-
*•-' erally understood without a commentary. All his theories claim to
be drawn direct from the facts, to be suggested by observation, and to
interpret the world as it is ; and whatever view he takes, he is constant
in his appeal to the experience of common life. This characteristic
endows his style with a freshness and vigor which would be difficult to
match in the philosophical writing of any country, and impossible in
that of Germany. If it were asked whether there were any circumstances,
apart from heredity, to which he owed his mental habit, the answer
might be found in the abnormal character of his early education, his
acquaintance with the world rather than with books, the extensive travels
of his boyhood, his ardent pursuit of knowledge for its own sake and
without regard to the emoluments and endowments of learning. He
was trained in realities even more than in ideas; and hence he is original,
forcible, clear, an enemy of all philosophic indefiniteness and obscurity ;
so that it may well be said of him, in the words of a writer in the
"Revue Contemporaine," cen'est pas un phttosophe comme les aulres,
c'esi un philosophe qui avu le monde.
It is not my purpose, nor would it be possible within the limits of a
prefatory note, to attempt an account of Schopenhauer's philosophy, to
indicate its sources, or to suggest or rebut the objections which may be
taken to it. M. Ribot, in his excellent little book,* has done all that is
necessary in this direction. But the essays here presented need a word
of explanation. It should be observed, and Schopenhauer himself is at
pains to point out, that his system is like a citadel with a hundred gates:
* La Philosophic de Schopenhauer, par Th. Ribot.
1
246 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
at whatever point you take it up, wherever you make your entrance, you
are on the road to the centre. In this respect his writings resemble a
series of essays composed in support of a single thesis; a circumstance
which led him to insist, more emphatically even than most philosophers,
that for a proper understanding of his system it was necessary to read
every line he had written. Perhaps it would be more correct to describe
Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung as his main thesis, and his other
treatises as merely corollary to it The essays in these volumes form
part of the corollary; they are taken from a collection published towards
the close of Schopenhauer's life, and by him entitled Parerga und
Paralipomena, as being in the nature of surplusage and illustrative of his
main position. They are by far the most popular of his works, and
since their first publication in 1851 they have done much to build up his
fame. Written so as to be intelligible enough in themselves, the
tendency of many of them is towards the fundamental idea on which his
system is based. It may therefore be convenient to summarize that idea
in a couple of sentences; more especially as Schopenhauer sometimes
writes as if his advice had been followed and his readers were acquainted
with the whole of his work.
All philosophy is in some sense the endeavor to find a unifying prin-
ciple, to discover the most general conception underlying the whole
field of nature and of knowledge. By one of those bold generalizations
which occasionally mark a real advance in science, Schopenhauer con-
ceived this unifying principle, this underlying unity, to consist in some-
thing analogous to that will which self-consciousness reveals to us. Will
is, according to him, the fundamental reality of the world, the thing-in-
itself; and its objectivation is what is presented in phenomena. The
struggle of the will to realize itself evolves the organism, which in its
turn evolves intelligence as the servant of the will. And in practical life
the antagonism between the will and the intellect arises from the fact
that the former is the metaphysical substance, the latter something
accidental and secondary. And further, will is desire, that is to say, need
of something; hence need and pain are what is positive in the world, and
the only possible happiness is a negation, a renunciation of the will to
live.
It is instructive to note, as M. Ribot points out, that in finding the
origin of all things, not in intelligence, as some of his predecessors in
philosophy had done, but in will, or the force of nature, from which all
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 247
phenomena have developed, Schopenhauer was anticipating something of
the scientific spirit of the nineteenth century. To this it may be added,
that in combating the method of Fichte and Hegel, who spun a system
out of abstract ideas, and in discarding it for one based on observation
"and experience, Schopenhauer can be said to have brought down philos-
ophy from heaven to earth.
In Schopenhauer's view, the various forms of Religion are no less a
product of human ingenuity than Art or Science. He holds, in effect,
that all religions take their rise in the desire to explain the world; and
that, in regard to truth and error, they differ, in the main, not by preach-
ing monotheism, polytheism or pantheism, but in so far as they recognize
pessimism or optimism as the true description of life. Hence, any relig-
ion which looked upon the world as being radically evil appealed to him
as containing an indestructible element of truth. I have endeavored to
present his view of two of the great religions of the world in the extract
which comes in the third volume, and to which I have given the title of
The Christian System. The tenor of it is to show that, however little he
may have been in sympathy with the supernatural element, he owed much
to the moral doctrines of Christianity and of Buddhism, between which
he traced great resemblance.
Of Schopenhauer, as of many another writer, it may be said that he
has been misunderstood and depreciated just in the degree in which he is
thought to be new ; and that, in treating of the Conduct of Life, he is,
in reality, valuable only in so far as he brings old truths to remembrance.
His name used to arouse, and in certain quarters still arouses, a vague
sense of alarm ; as though he had come to subvert all the rules of right
thinking and all the principles of good conduct, rather than to proclaim
once again and give a new meaning to truths with which the world has
long been familiar. Of his philosophy in its more technical aspects, as
matter upon which enough, perhaps, has been written, no account need
be taken here, except as it affects the form in which he embodies these
truths or supplies the fresh light in which he sees them. For whatever
claims to originality his metaphysical theory may possess, the chief
interest to be found in his views of life is an affair of form rather than of
substance; and he stands in a sphere of his own, not because he sets new
problems or opens up undiscovered truths, but in the manner in which
he approaches what has been already revealed.
He is not on that account less important ; for the great mass of men
248 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
at all times require to have old truths imparted as if they were new —
formulated, as it were, directly for them as individuals, and of special
application to their own circumstances in life. A discussion of human
happiness and the way to obtain it is never either unnecessary or
uncalled for, if one looks to the extent to which the lives of most men
fall short of even a poor ideal, or, again, to the difficulty of reaching any
definite and secure conclusion. For to such a momentous inquiry as
this, the vast majority of mankind gives nothing more than a nominal
consideration, accepting the current belief, whatever it may be, on
authority, and taking as little thought of the grounds on which it rests
as a man walking takes of the motion of the earth. But for those who
are not indifferent — for those whose desire to fathom the mystery of
existence gives them the right to be called thinking beings — it is just
here, in regard to the conclusion to be reached, that a difficulty arises, a
difficulty affecting the conduct of life: for, while the great facts of
existence are alike for all, they are variously appreciated, and conclusions
differ, chiefly from innate diversity of temperament in those who draw
them. It is innate temperament, acting on a view of the facts necessa-
rily incomplete, that has inspired so many different teachers. The
tendencies of a man's own mind — the Idols of the Cave before which he
bows — interpret the facts in accordance with his own nature: he elabo-
rates a system containing, perhaps, a grain of truth, to which the whole
of life is then made to conform; the facts purporting to be the founda-
tion of the theory, and the theory in its turn giving its own color to the
facts.
Nor is this error, the manipulation of facts to suit a theory, avoided
in the views of life which are presented by Schopenhauer. It is true that
he aimed especially at freeing himself from the trammels of previous
systems ; but he was caught in those of his own. His natural desire was
to resist the common appeal to anything extramundane — anything out-
side or beyond life — as the basis of either hope or fear. He tried to look
at life as it is ; but the metaphysical theory on which his whole philoso-
phy rests, made it necessary for him, as he thought, to regard it as an
unmixed evil. He calls our present existence an infinitesimal moment
between two eternities, the past and the future, a moment — like the life
of Plato's " Dwellers in the Cave, " — filled with the pursuit of shadows;
where everything is relative, phenomenal, illusory, and man is bound in
the servitude of ignorance, struggle and need, in the endless round of
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 249
effort and failure. If you confine yourself, says Schopenhauer, only
to some of its small details, life may indeed appear to be a comedy,
because of the one of two bright spots of happy circumstance to be found
in it here and there; but when you reach a higher point of view and a
broader outlook, these soon become invisible, and Life, seen from the
distance which brings out the true proportion of all its parts, is revealed
as a tragedy — a long record of struggle and pain, with the death of the
hero as the final certainty. How then, he asks, can a man make the
best of his brief hour under the hard conditions of his destiny ? What is
the true Wisdom of Life ?
Schopenhauer has no pre-conceived divine plan to vindicate!; no relig-
ious or moral enthusiasm to give a roseate hue to some far-off event,
obliging us in the end to think that all things work together for good.
Let poets and theologians give play to imagination 1 he, at any rate, will
profess no knowledge of anything beyond our ken. If our existence
does not entirely fail of its aim, it must, he says, be suffering; for this is
what meets us everywhere in the world, and it is absurd to look upon it
as the result of chance. Still, in the face of all this suffering, and in
spite of the fact that the uncertainty of life destroys its value as an end in
itself, every man's natural desire is to preserve his existence ; so that life
is a blind, unreasoning force, hurrying us we know not whither. From
his high metaphysical standpoint, Schopenhauer is ready to admit that
there are many things in life which give a short satisfaction and blind us
for the moment to the realities of existence, — pleasures as they may be
called, in so far as they are a mode of relief; but that pleasure is not
positive in its nature, nor anything more than the negation of suffering, is
proved by the fact that, if pleasures come in abundance, pain soon
returns in the form of satiety ; so that the sense of illusion is all that has
been gained. Hence, the most a man can achieve in the way of welfare
is a measure of relief from this suffering ; and if people were prudent, it
is at this they would aim, instead of trying to secure a happiness which
always flies from them.
It is a trite saying, that happiness is a delusion, a chimera, the_/a/a
morgana of the heart ; but here is a writer who will bring our whole con-
duct into line with that, as a matter of practice ; making pain the positive
groundwork of life, and a desire to escape it the spur of all effort. While
most of those who treat of the conduct of life come at last to the conclu-
sion, more or less vaguely expressed, that religion and morality form a
*
250 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
positive source of true happiness, Schopenhauer does not professedly
take this view ; though it is quite true that the practical outcome of his
remarks tends, as will be seen, in support of it ; with this difference, how-
ever— he does not direct the imagination to anything outside this present
life as making it worth while to live at all ; his object is to state the facts
of existence as they immediately appear, and to draw conclusions as to
what a wise man will do in the face of them.
In the practical outcome of Schopenhauer's ethics — the end and aim
of those maxims of conduct which he recommends, there is nothing that
is not substantially akin to theories of life which, in different forms, the
greater part of mankind is presumed to hold in reverence. It is the
premises rather than the conclusion of his argument which interest us as
something new. The whole world, he says, with all its phenomena of
change, growth and development, is ultimately the manifestation of Will
— Wille und Vorstettung — a blind force conscious of itself only when it
reaches the stage of intellect. And life is a constant self-assertion of this
will ; a long desire which is never fulfilled ; disillusion inevitably follow-
ing upon attainment, because the will, the thing-in-itself — in philosophical
language, the noumenon — always remains as the permanent element ; and
with this persistent exercise of its claim, it can never be satisfied. So life
is essentially suffering ; and the only remedy for it is the freedom of the
intellect from the servitude imposed by its master, the will.
The happiness a man can attain, is thus, in Schopenhauer's view,
negative only ; but how is it to be acquired ? Some temporary relief,
he says, may be obtained through the medium of Art ; for in the appre-
hension of Art we are raised out of our bondage, contemplating objects
of thought as they are in themselves, apart from their relations to our
own ephemeral existence, and free from any taint of the will. This con-
templation of pure thought is destroyed when Art is degraded from its
lofty sphere, and made an instrument in the bondage of the will. How
few of those who feel that the pleasure of Art transcends all others, could
give such a striking explanation of their feeling !
But the highest ethical duty, and consequently the supreme endeavor
after happiness, is to withdraw from the struggle of life, and so obtain
release from the misery which that struggle imposes upon all, even upon
those who are for the moment successful. For as will is the inmost kernel
of everything, so it is identical under all its manifestations ; and through
the mirror of the world a man may arrive at the knowledge of himself.
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 251
The recognition of the identity of our own nature with that of others is
the beginning and foundation of all true morality. For, once a man
clearly perceives this solidarity of the will, there is aroused in him a feel-
ing of sympathy which is the main-spring of ethical conduct This feeling
of sympathy must, in any true moral system, prevent our obtaining suc-
cess at the price of others' loss. Justice, in this theory, comes to be a
noble, enlightened self-interest; it will forbid our doing wrong to our
fellow-man, because, in injuring him, we are injuring ourselves— our own
nature, which is identical with his. On the other hand, the recognition
of this identity of the will must lead to commiseration — a feeling of sym-
pathy with our fellow-sufferers — to acts of kindness and benevolence, to
the manifestation of what Kant, in the Metaphysic of Ethics, calls the only
absolute good, the good will. In Schopenhauer's phraseology, the human
will, in other words, epoos, the love of life, is in itself the root of all evil,
and goodness lies in renouncing it Theoretically, his ethical doctrine
is the extreme of socialism, in a large sense ; a recognition of the inner
identity and equal claims, of all men with ourselves ; a recognition issu-
ing in dydnri, universal benevolence, and a stifling of particular desires.
It may come as a surprise to those who affect to hold Schopenhauer
in abhorrence, without, perhaps, really knowing the nature of his views,
that, in this theory of the essential evil of the human will — «po>s, the
common selfish idea of life — he is reflecting, and indeed probably borrow-
ing, what he describes as the fundamental tenet of Christian theology, that
the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain,1 standing in need of
redemption. Though Schopenhauer was no friend to Christian theology
in its ordinary tendencies, he was very much in sympathy with some of
the doctrines which have been connected with it In his opinion, the
foremost truth which Christianity proclaimed to the world lay in its rec-
ognition of pessimism, its view that the world was essentially corrupt,
and that the devil was its prince or ruler.* It would be out of place here
to inquire into the exact meaning of this statement, or to determine the
precise form of compensation provided for the ills of life under any
scheme of doctrine which passes for Christian : and, even if it were in
place, the task would be an extremely difficult one ; for probably no
system of belief has ever undergone, at various periods, more radical
changes than Christianity. But whatever prospect of happiness it may
have held out, at an early date of its history, it soon came to teach that
) Romans viii, 22. * John xiL, 31.
252 TRANSLATORS PREFACE.
the necessary preparation for happiness, as a positive spiritual state, A
renunciation, resignation, a looking away from external life to the inner
life of the soul — a kingdom not of this world. So far, at least, as concerns
its view of the world itself, and the main lesson and duty which life
teaches, there is nothing in the theory of pessimism which does not
accord with that religion which is looked up to as the guide of life over
a great part of the civilized world.
What Schopenhauer does, is to attempt a metaphysical explanation of
the evil of life, without any reference to anything outside it Philosophy,
he urges, should be cosmology, not theology : an explanation of the world,
not a scheme of divine knowledge ; it should leave the gods alone — to
use an ancient phrase — and claim to be left alone in return. Schopen-
hauer was not concerned, as the apostles and fathers of the Church were
concerned, to formulate a scheme by which the ills of this life should be
remedied in another — an appeal to the poor and oppressed, conveyed
often in a material form, as, for instance, in the story of Dives and Laza-
rus. In his theory of life as the self-assertion of will, he endeavors to
account for the sin, misery and iniquity of the world, and to point to the
way of escape — the denial of the will to live.
Though Schopenhauer's views of life have this much in common with
certain aspects of Christian doctrine, they are in decided antagonism with
another theory which, though, comparatively speaking, the birth of yes-
terday, has already been dignified by the name of a religion, and has, no
doubt, a certain number of followers. It is the theory which looks upon
the life of mankind as a continual progress towards a state of perfection,
and humanity in its nobler tendencies as itself worthy of worship. To
those who embrace this theory, it will seem, that because Schopenhauer
does not hesitate to declare the evil in the life of mankind to be far in
excess of the good, and that, as long as the human will remains what it
is, there can be no radical change for the better, he is therefore outside
the pale of civilization, an alien from the commonwealth of ordered
knowledge and progress. But it has yet to be seen whether the religion
ot humanity will fare better, as a theory of conduct or as a guide of life,
than either Christianity or Buddhism. If any one doctrine may be named
which has distinguished Christianity wherever it has been a living force
among its adherents, it is the doctrine of renunciation ; the same doc-
trine which, in a different shape and with other surroundings, forms the
spirit of Buddhism. With those great religions of the world which man-
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 253
kind has hitherto professed to revere as the most ennobling of all influ-
ences, Schopenhauer's theories, not perhaps in their details, but in the
principle which informs them, are in close alliance.
Renunciation, according to Schopenhauer, is the truest wisdom of
life, from the higher ethical standpoint. His heroes are the Christian
ascetics of the Middle Age, and the followers of Buddha who turn away
from the Sansara to the Nirvana. But our modern habits of thought are
different. We look askance at the doctrines, and we have no great
enthusiasm for the heroes. The system which is in vogue amongst us
just now objects to the identification of nature with evil, and, in fact,
abandons ethical dualism altogether. And if nature is not evil, where, it
will be asked, is the necessity or the benefit of renunciation — a question
which may even come to be generally raised, in a not very distant future,
on behalf of some new conception of Christianity.
And from another point of view, let it be frankly admitted that renun-
ciation is incompatible with ordinary practice, with the rules of life as we
are compelled to formulate them ; and that, to the vast majority, the
doctrine seems little but a mockery, a hopelessly unworkable plan, inap-
plicable to the conditions under which men have to exist
In spite of the fact that he is theoretically in sympathy with truths
which lie at the foundation of certain widely revered systems, the world
has not yet accepted Schopenhauer for what he proclaimed himself to be, a
great teacher : and probably for the reason that hope is not an element in
his wisdom of life, and that he attenuates love into something that is not
a real, living force — a shadowy recognition of the identity of the will
For men are disinclined to welcome a theory which neither flatters their
present position nor holds out any prospect of better things to come.
Optimism — the belief that in the end everything will be for the best — is
the natural creed of mankind ; and a writer who of set purpose seeks to
undermine it by an appeal to facts is regarded as one who tries to rob
humanity of its rights. How seldom an appeal to the facts within our
reach is really made ! Whether the evil of life actually outweighs the
good, — or, if we should look for better things, what is the possibility or
the nature of a Future Life, either for ourselves as individuals, or as part
of some great whole, or, again, as contributing to a coming state of per-
fection ? — such inquiries claim an amount of attention which the mass of
men everywhere is unwilling to give. But, in any case, whether it is a
vague assent to current beliefs, or a blind reliance on a baseless certainty,
254 TRA VSLA TOR'S PREFACE.
or an impartial attempt to put away what is false, — hope remains as the
deepest foundation of every faith in a happy future.
But it should be observed that this looking to the future as a comple-
ment for the present is dictated mainly by the desire to remedy existing
ills ; and that the great hold which religion has on mankind, as an incen-
tive to present happiness, is the promise it makes of coming perfection.
Hope for the future is a tacit admission of evil in the present ; for if a
man is completely happy in this life, and looks upon happiness as the
prevailing order, he will not think so much of another. So a discussion
of the nature of happiness is not thought complete if it takes account
only of our present life, and unless it connects what we are now and what
we do here with what we may be hereafter. Schopenhauer's theory does
not profess to do this ; it promises no positive good to the individual ;
at most, only relief ; he breaks the idol of the world, and sets up nothing
in its place ; and like many another iconoclast, he has long been con-
demned by those whose temples he has desecrated. If there are optimis-
tic theories of life, it is not life itself, he would argue, which gives color
to them ; it is rather the reflection of some great final cause which
humanity has created as the last hope of its redemption: —
Heaven but the vision of fulfilled desire,
And hell the shadow from a soul on fire,
Cast on the darkness into which ourselves^
So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.1
Still, hope, it may be said, is not knowledge, nor a real answer to any
question ; at most, a makeshift, a moral support for intellectual weak-
ness. The truth is, that as theories, both optimism and pessimism are
failures ; because they are extreme views where only a very partial judg-
ment is possible. And in view of the great uncertainty of all answers,
most of those who do not accept a stereotyped system leave the question
alone, as being either of little interest, or of no bearing on the welfare of
their lives, which are commonly satisfied with low aims ; tacitly ridiculing
those who demand an answer as the most pressing affair of existence.
But the fact that the final problems of the world are still open, makes in
favor of an honest attempt to think them out, in spite of all previous fail-
ure or still existing difficulty ; and however old these problems may be,
the endeavor to solve them is one which it is always worth while to
encourage afresh. For the individual advantages which attend an effort
i Omar Khayyam ; translated by E. Fitzgerald.
10
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 255
to find the true path accrue quite apart from any success in reaching the
goal ; and even though the height we strive to climb be inaccessible, we
can still see and understand more than those who never leave the plain.
The sphere, it is true, is enormous — the study of human life and destiny
as a whole ; and our mental vision is so ill-adapted to a range of this
extent that to aim at forming a complete scheme is to attempt the impos-
sible. It must be recognized that the data are insufficient for large views,
and that we ought not to go beyond the facts we have, the facts of ordi-
nary life, interpreted by the common experience of every day. These
form our only material. The views we take must of necessity be frag-
mentary— a mere collection of aperfus, rough guesses at the undiscov-
ered ; of the same nature, indeed, as all our possessions in the way of
knowledge — little tracts of solid land reclaimed from the mysterious
ocean of the unknown.
But if we do not admit Schopenhauer to be a great teacher, — because
he is out of sympathy with the highest aspirations of mankind, and too
ready to dogmatize from partial views, — he is a very suggestive writer,
and eminently readable. His style is brilliant, animated, forcible, pun-
gent ; although it is also discursive, irresponsible, and with a tendency
to superficial generalization. He brings in the most unexpected topics
without any very sure sense of their relative place ; everything, in fact,
seems to be fair game, once he has taken up his pen. His irony is note-
worthy ; for it extends beyond mere isolated sentences, and sometimes
applies to whole passages, which must be read cum grano salts. And if
he has grave faults as well as excellences of literary treatment, he is at
least always witty and amusing, and that, too, in dealing with subjects —
as here, for instance, with the Conduct of Life — on which many others
have been at once severe and dull. It is easy to complain that though he
is witty and amusing, he is often at the same time bitter and ill-natured.
This is in some measure the unpleasant side of his uncompromising devo-
tion to truth, his resolute eagerness to dispel illusion at any cost — those
defects of his qualities which were intensified by a solitary and, until his
last years, unappreciated life. He was naturally more disposed to coerce
than to flatter the world into accepting his views ; he was above all
things un esprit fort, and at times brutal in the use of his strength. If
it should be urged that, however great his literary qualities, he is not
worth reading because he takes a narrow view of life and is blind to some
of its greatest blessings, it will be well to remember the profound truth of
11
256 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
that line which a friend inscribed on his earliest biography : Si non
errassel fecerai tile minus,1 a truth which is seldom without application,
whatever be the form of human effort. Schopenhauer cannot be neglect-
ed because he takes an unpleasant view of existence, for it is a view
which must present itself, at some time, to every thoughtful person. To be
outraged by Schopenhauer means to be ignorant of many of the facts of life.
In this one of his smaller works, Aphorismen zur Lebensweisheit, Scho-
penhauer abandons his high metaphysical standpoint, and discusses, with
the same zest and appreciation as in fact marked his enjoyment of them,
some of the pleasures which a wise man will seek to obtain, — health,
moderate possessions, intellectual riches. And when, as in this little
work, he comes to speak of the wisdom of life as the practical art of liv-
ing, the pessimist view of human destiny is obtruded as little as possible.
His remarks profess to be the result of a compromise — an attempt to treat
life from the common standpoint He is content to call these witty and
instructive pages a series of aphorisms ; thereby indicating that he makes
no claim to expound a complete theory of conduct. It will doubtless
occur to any intelligent reader that his observations are but fragmentary
thoughts on various phases of life ; and, in reality, mere aphorisms — in
the old, Greek sense of the word — pithy distinctions, definitions of facts,
a marking-off, as it were, of the true from the false in some of our ordi-
nary notions of life and prosperity. Here there is little that is not in
complete harmony with precepts to which the world has long been accus-
tomed ; and in this respect, also, Schopenhauer offers a suggestive com-
parison rather than a contrast with most writers on happiness.
The philosopher in his study is conscious that the world is never
likely to embrace his higher metaphysical or ethical standpoint, and
annihilate the will to live ; nor did Schopenhauer himself do so except
so far as he, in common with most serious students of life, avoided the
ordinary aims of mankind. The theory which recommended universal
benevolence as the highest ethical duty, came, as a matter of practice, to
mean a formal standing-aloof— the ne plus ultra of individualism. The
Wisdom of Life, as the practical art of living, is a compromise. We are
here not by any choice of our own ; and while we strive to make the
best of it, we must not let ourselves be deceived. If you want to be happy,
he says, it will not do to cherish illusions. Schopenhauer would have
found nothing admirable in the conclusion at which the late M. Edmond
1 Slightly altered from Martial. Epigram : I. xxii.
12
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 257
Scherer, for instance, arrived. L'arf de vwre, he wrote in his preface to
Amiel's Journal, c'est de se faire une raison, de souscrire au compromis, de
se prefer aux fictions. Schopenhauer conceives his mission to be, rather,
to dispel illusion, to tear the mask from life ; — a violent operation, not
always productive of good. Some illusion, he urges, may profitably be
dispelled by recognizing that no amount of external aid will make up for
inward deficiency; and that if a man has not got the elements of happi-
ness in himself, all the pride, pleasure, beauty and interest of the world
will not give it to him. Success in life, as gauged by the ordinary mate-
rial standard, means to place faith wholly in externals as the source of
happiness, to assert and emphasize the common will to live, in a word,
to be vulgar. He protests against this search for happiness — something
subjective — in the world of our surroundings, or anywhere but in a man's
own self ; a protest the sincerity of which might well be imitated by some
professed advocates of spiritual claims.
It would be interesting to place his utterances on this point side by
side with those of a distinguished interpreter of nature in this country,
who has recently attracted thousands of readers by describing The
Pleasures of Life; in other words, the blessings which the world holds
out to all who can enjoy them — health, books, friends, travel, education,
art. On the common ground of their regard for these pleasures there is
no disagreement between the optimist and the pessimist But a charac-
teristic difference of view may be found in the application of a rule of
life which Schopenhauer seems never to tire of repeating ; namely, that
happiness consists for the most part in what a man is in himself, and that
the pleasure he derives from these blessings will depend entirely upon
the extent to which his personality really allows him to appreciate them.
This is a rule which runs some risk of being overlooked when a writer
tries to dazzle the mind's eye by describing all the possible sources of
pleasure in the world of our surroundings ; but Sir John Lubbock, in
common with everyone who attempts a fundamental answer to the ques-
tion of happiness, cannot afford to overlook it The truth of the rule is
perhaps taken for granted in his account of life's pleasures ; but it is
significant that it is only when he comes to speak of life's troubles that
he freely admits the force of it Happiness, he says, in this latter connec-
tion, depends much more on what is within than without us. Yet a rigid
application of this truth might perhaps discount the effect of those
pleasures with which the world is said to abound. That happiness as
13
258 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
well as unhappiness depends mainly upon what is within, is more clearly
recognized in the case of trouble ; for when troubles come upon a man,
they influence him, as a rule, much more deeply than pleasures. How
few, even amongst the millions to whom these blessings are open — health,
books, travel, art — really find any true or permanent happiness in them 1
While Schopenhauer's view of the pleasures of life may be elucidated
by comparing it with that of a popular writer like Sir John Lubbock, and
by contrasting the appeals they severally make to the outer and the inner
world as a source of happiness ; Schopenhauer's view of life itself will
stand out more clearly if we remember the opinion so boldly expressed bv
the same English writer. If we resolutely look, observes bir John Lubbock,
I do not say at the bright side of things, but at things as they really are; if we
avail ourselves of the manifold blessings which surround us; we cannot but
feel that life is indeed a glorious inheritance. 1 There is a splendid excess
of optimism about this statement which well fits it to show up the darker
picture drawn by the German philosopher.
Finally, it should be remembered that, though Schopenhauer's picture
of the world is gloomy and sombre, there is nothing weak or unmanly in
his attitude. If a happy existence, he says, — not merely an existence
free from pain — is denied us, we can at least be heroes and face life with
courage: das hochste was der Mensch erlangen kann ist ein heroischer
Lebenslauf. A noble character will never complain at misfortune ; for if
a man looks round him at other manifestations of that which is his own
inner nature, the will, he finds sorrows happening to his fellow-men harder
to bear than any that have come upon himself. And the ideal of nobility
is to deserve the praise which Hamlet — in Shakespeare's Tragedy of
Pessimism — gave to his friend :
Thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing.
But perhaps Schopenhauer's theory carries with it its own correction.
He describes existence as a more or less violent oscillation between pain
and boredom. If this were really the sum of life, and we had to reason
from such a partial view, it is obvious that happiness would lie in action;
and that life would be so constituted as to supply two natural and inevi-
table incentives to action, and thus to contain in itself the very conditions
of happiness. Life itself reveals our destiny. It is not the struggle
» The Pleasures of Life. Part I., p. 5.
14
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 259
which produces misery, it is the mistaken aims and the low ideals — toot
uns atte bdndigt, das Gemeine I
That Schopenhauer conceives life as an evil is a deduction, and possi-
bly a mistaken deduction, from his metaphysical theory. Whether his
scheme of things is correct or not— and it shares the common fate of all
metaphysical systems in being unverifiable, and to that extent unprofita-
ble— he will in the last resort have made good his claim to be read by his
insight into the varied needs of human life. It may be that a future age
will consign his metaphysics to the philosophical lumber-room ; but he
is a literary artist as well as a philosopher, and he can make a bid for
fame in atber caoacity. X B. &
INTRODUCTION.
TN these pages i snail speak of The Wisdom of Life in the cotntnoo
•*• meaning of the terra, as the art, namely, of ordering our lives so as
to obtain the greatest possible amount of pleasure and success; an art the
theory of which may be called Eudamonology, for it teaches us how to lead
a happy existence. Such an existence might perhaps be defined as one
which, looked at from a purely objective point of view, or, rather, after
cool and mature reflection — for the question necessarily involves subjective
considerations, — would be decidedly preferable to non-existence; implying
that we should cling to it for its own sake, and not merely from the fear
of death ; and further, that we should never like it to come to an end.
Now whether human life corresponds, or could possibly correspond, to
this conception of existence, is a question to which, as is well-known, my
philosophical system returns a negative answer. On the eudaemonistic
hypothesis, however, the question must be answered in the affirmative ;
and I have shown, in the second volume of my chief work (ch. 49), that
this hypothesis is based upon a fundamental mistake. Accordingly, in
elaborating the scheme of a happy existence, I have had to make a com-
plete surrender of the higher metaphysical and ethical standpoint to which
my own theories lead ; and everything I shall say here will to some extent
rest upon a compromise ; in so far, that is, as I take the common stand-
point of every day, and embrace the error which is at the bottom of it
My remarks, therefore, will possess only a qualified value, for the very
word eudcsmonology is a euphemism. Further, I make no claims to com-
pleteness ; partly because the subject is inexhaustible, and partly because
I should otherwise have to say over again what has been already sai^
by others.
262 INTRODUCTION.
The only book composed, as far as I remember, with a like purpose to
that which animates this collection of aphorisms, is Cardan's De utihtate ex
adversis captenda, which is well worth reading, and may be used to supple-
ment the present work. Aristotle, it is true, has a few words on
eudaemonology in the fifth chapter of the first book of his Rhetoric; but
what he says does not come to very much. As compilation is not my
business, I have made no use of these predecessors; more especially because,
in the process of compiling, individuality of view is lost, and individuality
of view is the kernel of works of this kind. In general, indeed, the wise
in all ages have always said the same thing, and the fools, who at all times
form the immense majority, have in their way too acted alike, and done
just the opposite ; and so it will continue. For, as Voltaire says, we shall
teave this world as foolish and as zuic&ed as we found it on our arrival.
CHAPTER I.
DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT.
A RISTOTLE1 divides the blessings of life into three classes — those
<£*- which come to us from without, those of the soul, and those of
the body. Keeping nothing of this division but the number, I observe
that the fundamental differences in human lot may be reduced to three
distinct classes :
(1) What a man is : that is to say, personality, in the widest sense of
the word; under which are included health, strength, beauty, temperament,
moral character, intelligence and education.
(2) What a man has : that is, property and possessions of every
kind.
(3) How a man stands in the estimation of others : by which is to be
understood, as everybody knows, what a man is in the eyes of his fellow-
men, or, more strictly, the light in which they regard him. This is shown
by their opinion of him; and their opinion is in its turn manifested by the
honor in which he is held, and by his rank and reputation.
The differences which come under the first head are those which Nature
herself has set between man and man ; and from this fact alone we may at
once infer that they influence the happiness or unhappiness of mankind in
a much more vital and radical way than those contained under the two
following heads, which are merely the effect of human arrangements.
Compared with genuine personal advantages, such as a great mind or a
great heart, all the privileges of rank or birth, even of royal birth, are but
as kings on the stage to kings in real life. The same thing was said long
ago by Metrodorus, the earliest disciple of Epicurus, who wrote as the
title of one of his chapters, The happiness we receive from ourselves is
greater than that which we obtain from our surroundings. * And it is an
obvious fact, which cannot be called in question, that the principal
» Eth. Nichom., I. 8. * Cfc Clemens Alex. Strom. II., 21.
3
264 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
element in a man's well-being, — indeed, in the whole tenor of his existence,
— is what he is made of, his inner constitution. For this is the immediate
source of that inward satisfaction or dissatisfaction resulting from the sum
total of his sensations, desires and thoughts; whilst his surroundings, on
the other hand, exert only a mediate or indirect influence upon him. This
is why the same external events or circumstances affect no two people
alike ; even with perfectly similar surroundings everyone lives in a world
of his own. For a man has immediate apprehension only of his own
ideas, feelings and volitions; the outer world can influence him only in so
far as it brings these to life. The world in which a man lives shapes itself
chiefly by the way in which he looks at it, and so it proves different to
different men ; to one it is barren, dull, and superficial ; to another rich,
interesting, and full of meaning. On hearing of the interesting events
which have happened in the course of a man's experience, many people
will wish that similar things had happened in their lives, too, completely
forgetting that they should be envious rather of the mental aptitude which
lent those events the significance they possess when he describes them;
to a man of genius they were interesting adventures; but to the dull per-
ceptions of an ordinary individual they would have been stale, everyday
occurrences. This is in the highest degree the case with many of Goethe's
and Byron's poems, which are obviously founded upon actual facts; where
it is open to a foolish reader to envy the poet because so many delightful
things happened to him, instead of envying that mighty power of phantasy
which was capable of turning a fairly common experience into something
so great and beautiful.
In the same way, a person of melancholy temperament will make a
scene in a tragedy out of what appears to the sanguine man only in the
light of an interesting conflict, and to a phlegmatic soul as something
without any meaning; — all of which rests upon the fact that every event,
in order to be realized and appreciated, requires the co-operation of two
factors, namely, a subject and an object ; although these are as closely and
necessarily connected as oxygen and hydrogen in water. When therefore
the objective or external factor in an experience is actually the same, but
the subjective or personal appreciation of it varies, the event is just as
much a different one in the eyes of different persons as if the objective
factors had not been alike ; for to a blunt intelligence the fairest and best
object in the world presents only a poor reality, and is therefore only
poorly appreciated, — like a fine landscape in dull weather, or in the
reflection of a bad camera obscura. In plain language, every man is pent up
within the limits of his own consciousness, and cannot directly get beyond
those limits any more than he can get beyond his own skin ; so external
aid is not of much use to him. On the stage, one man is a prince, another
a minister, a third a servant or a soldier or a general, and so on, — mere
external differences : the inner reality, the kernel of all these appearances
is the same — a poor player, with all the anxieties of his lot. In life it is
4
THE WISDOM OF LIFE.
265
jnst the same. Differences of rank and wealth give every man his part to
play, but this by no means implies a difference of inward happiness and
pleasure; here, too, there is the same being in all — a poor mortal, with his
hardships and troubles. Though these may, indeed, in every case pro-
ceed from dissimilar causes, they are in their essential nature much the
same in all their forms, with degrees of intensity which vary, no doubt,
but in no wise correspond to the part a man has to play, to the presence
or absence of position and wealth. Since everything which exists or hap-
pens for a man exists only in his consciousness and happens for it alone,
the most essential thing for a man is the constitution of this consciousness,
which is in most cases far more important than the circumstances which
go to form its contents. All the pride and pleasure of the world, mirrored
in the dull consciousness of a fool, is poor indeed compared with the
imagination of Cervantes writing his Don Quixote in a miserable prison.
The objective half of life and reality is in the hand of fate, and accordingly
takes various forms in different cases: the subjective half is ourself, and in
essentials it always remains the same.
Hence the life of every man is stamped with the same character
throughout, however much his external circumstances may alter ; it is
like a series of variations on a single theme. No one can get beyond his
own individuality. An animal, under whatever circumstances it is placed,
remains within the narrow limits to which nature has irrevocably consigned
it ; so that our endeavors to make a pet happy must always keep within the
compass of its nature, and be restricted to what it can feel. So it is with
man ; the measure of the happiness he can attain is determined before-
hand by his individuality. More especially is this the case with the men-
tal powers, which fix once for all his capacity for the higher kinds of
pleasure. If these powers are small, no efforts from without, nothing
that his fellow-men or that fortune can do for him, will suffice to raise
him above the ordinary degree of human happiness and pleasure, half
animal though it be ; his only resources are his sensual appetite, — a cosy
and cheerful family life at the most, — low company and vulgar pastime ;
even education, on the whole, can avail little, if anything, for the
enlargement of his horizon. For the highest, most varied and lasting
pleasures are those of the mind, however much our youth may deceive us
oa this point ; and the pleasures of the mind turn chiefly on the powers
of the mind. It is clear, then, that our happiness depends in a great
degree upon what we are, upon our individuality, whilst lot or destiny is
generally taken to mean only what we have, or our reputation. Our lot,
in this sense, may improve ; but we do no ask much of it if we are
inwardly rich : on the other hand, a fool remains a fool, a dull block-
head, to his last hour, even though he were surrounded by houris in
paradise. This is why Goethe, in the West-ostlicher Divan, says that
every man, whether he occupy a low position in life, or emerges as its
victor, testifies to personality as the greatest factor in happiness : —
&
266 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
Volk und Knecht und Ueberutinder
Siegestehen, tujeder Zeit,
BOckttei Gluck der Erdenkinder
Set nur die PersOnlichkeit.
Everything confirms the fact that the subjective element in life is
incomparably more important for our happiness and pleasure than the
objective, from such sayings as Hunger is the best sauce, and Youth and
Age cannot live together, up to the life of the Genius and the Saint.
Health outweighs all other blessings so much that one may really say
that a healthy beggar is happier than an ailing king. A quiet and cheer-
ful temperament, happy in the enjoyment of a perfectly sound physique,
an intellect clear, lively, penetrating and seeing things as they are, a
moderate and gentle will, and therefore a good conscience — these are
privileges which no rank or wealth can make up for or replace. For
what a man is in himself, what accompanies him when he is alone, what
no one can give or take away, is obviously more essential to him than
everything he has in the way of possessions, or even what he may be in
the eyes of the world. An intellectual man in complete solitude has
excellent entertainment in his own thoughts and fancies, whilst no
amount of diversity of social pleasures, theatres, excursions and amuse-
ments, can ward off boredom from a dullard. A good, temperate, gentle
character can be happy in needy circumstances, whilst a covetous, envi-
ous and malicious man, even if he be the richest in the world, goes mis-
erable. Nay more ; to one who has the constant delight of a special
individuality, with a high degree of intellect, most of the pleasures which
are run after by mankind are perfectly superfluous ; they are even a
trouble and a burden. And so Horace says of himself, that, however
many are deprived of the fancy-goods of life, there is one at least who can
life without them : —
Gtmmas, marmor, ebur, Tyrrhena sigilla, tabellat,
Argentum, vestes Gactulo murice tinctas
Suttt qui non habeant, est qui non cur at habere ;
and when Socrates saw various articles of luxury spread out for sale, he
exclaimed : How much there is in the world that I do not want.
So the first and most essential element in our life's happiness is what
we are, — our personality, if for no other reason than that it is a constant
factor coming into play under all circumstances : besides, unlike the
blessings which are described under the two heads, it is not the sport of
destiny and cannot be wrested from us ; — and, so far, it is endowed with
an absolute value in contrast to the merely relative worth of the other
two. The consequence of this is that it is much more difficult than people
commonly suppose to get a hold on a man from without. But here the
all-powerful agent, Time, comes in and claims its rights, and before its
influence physical and mental advantages gradually waste away. Moral
§
THE WISDOM OF LIFE. 267
character alone remains inaccessible to it In view of the destructive
effect of time, it seems, indeed, as if the blessings named under the other
two heads, of which time cannot directly rob us, were superior to those
of the first Another advantage might be claimed for them, namely, that
being in their very nature objective and external, they are attainable, and
every one is presented with the possibility, at least, of coming into pos-
session of them ; whilst what is subjective is not open to us to acquire,
but, making its entry by a kind of divine right, it remains for life, immu-
table, inalienable, an inexorable doom. Let me quote those lines in
which Goethe describes how an unalterable destiny is assigned to every
man at the hour of his birth, so that he can develope only in the lines
laid down for him, as it were, by the conjunctions of the stars ; and how
the Sibyl and the prophets declare that himself -a. man can never escape,
nor any power of time avail to change the path on which his life is cast : —
Wit an dem Tag, der dich der Welt verliehen.
Die Sonne stand zum Grusse der Planeten,
JBist alsobald undfort und fort gediehen,
Nach dem Gesetz, wonach du angetreten.
So musst du sttn, dir kannst du nicht entflithen^
Sosagten schon Sibyllen und Prophet en ;
Und keine Zeit und keine Macht zerstuckelt
Gepr>e Form, die lebend sicA entwickelt.
The only thing that stands in our power to achieve, is to make the
most advantageous use possible of the personal qualities we possess, and
accordingly to follow such pursuits only as will call them into play, to
strive after the kind of perfection of which they admit and to avoid every
other ; consequently, to choose the position, occupation and manner of
life which are most suitable for their development
Imagine a man endowed with herculean strength who is compelled by
circumstances to follow a sedentary occupation, some minute exquisite
work of the hands, for example, or to engage in study and mental labor
demanding quite other powers, and just those which he has not got, —
compelled, that is, to leave unused the powers in which he is pre-emi-
nently strong ; a man placed like this will never feel happy all his life
through. Even more miserable will be the lot of the man with intellec-
tual powers of a very high order, who has to leave them undeveloped and
unemployed, in the pursuit of a calling which does not require them,
some bodily labor, perhaps, for which his strength is insufficient Still,
in a case of this kind, it should be our care, especially in youth, to avoid
the precipice of presumption, and not ascribe to ourselves a superfluity
of power which is not there.
Since the blessings described under the first head decidedly outweigh
those contained under the other two, it is manifestly a wiser course to
aim at the maintenance of our health and the cultivation of our faculties,
than at the amassing of wealth ; but this must not be mistaken as mean-
7
268 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
ing that we should neglect to acquire an adequate supply of the necessa-
ries of life. Wealth, in the strict sense of the word, that is, great super-
fluity, can do little for our happiness ; and many rich people feel
unhappy just 'because they are without any true mental culture or knowl-
edge, and consequently have no objective interests which would qualify
them for intellectual occupations. For, beyond the satisfaction of some
real and natural necessities, all that the possession of wealth can achieve
has a very small influence upon our happiness, in the proper sense of
the word ; indeed, wealth rather disturbs it, because the preservation of
property entails a great many unavoidable anxieties. And still men are
a thousand times more intent on becoming rich than on acquiring cul-
ture, though it is quite certain that what a man is contributes much more
to his happiness than what he has. So you may see many a man, as
industrious as an ant, ceaselessly occupied from morning to night in the
endeavor to increase his heap of gold. Beyond the narrow horizon of
means to this end, he knows nothing ; his mind is a blank, and conse-
quently unsusceptible to any other influence. The highest pleasures,
those of the intellect, are to him inaccessible, and he tries in vain to
replace them by the fleeting pleasures of sense in which he indulges, last-
ing but a brief hour and at tremendous cost. And if he is lucky, his
struggles result in his having a really grea^ pile of gold, which he leaves to
his heir, either to make it still larger, or to squander it in extravagance.
A life like this, though pursued with a sense of earnestness and an air of
importance, is just as silly as many another which has a fool's cap for its
symbol.
What a man has in himself is, then, the chief element in his happiness.
Because this is, as a rule, so very little, most of those who are placed
beyond the struggle with penury, feel at bottom quite as unhappy as
those who are still engaged in it. Their minds are vacant, their imag-
ination dull, their spirits poor, and so they are driven to the company of
those like them — for similis simili gaudet — where they make common pur-
suit of pastime and entertainment, consisting for the most part in sensual
pleasure, amusement of every kind, and finally, in excess and libertinism.
A young man of rich family enters upon life with a large patrimony, and
often runs through it in an incredibly short space of time, in vicious
extravagance ; and why ? Simply because, here too, the mind is empty
and void, and so the man is bored with existence. He was sent
forth into the world outwardly rich but inwardly poor, and his vain
endeavor was to make his external wealth compensate for his inner pov
erty, by trying to obtain everything from without, like an old man who
seeks to strengthen himself as King David or Marshal de Retz tried to
do. And so in the end one who is inwardly poor comes to be also poor
outwardly.
I need not insist upon the importance of the other two kinds of bless-
ings which make up the happiness of human life ; now-a-days the value
8
THE WISDOM OF LIFE.
of possessing them is too well known to require advertisement Thi
third class, it is true, may seem, compared with the second, of a ver*
ethereal character, as it consists only of other people's opinions. Still,
everyone has to strive for reputation, that is to say, a good name. Rank,
on the other hand, should be aspired to only by those who serve the
State, and fame by very few indeed. In any case, reputation is looked
upon as a priceless treasure, and fame as the most precious of all the
blessings a man can attain, — the Golden Fleece, as it were, of the elect :
whilst only fools will prefer rank to property. The second and third
classes, moreover, are reciprocally cause and effect ; so far that is, as
Petronius' maxim, hales habeberis, is true ; and conversely, the favor of
others, in all its forms, often puts us in the way of getting what we want.
CHAPTER II.
PERSONALITY, OR WHAT A MAN IS.
WE have already seen, in general, that what a man is contributes
much more to his happiness than what he has, or how he is
regarded by others. What a man is, and so what he has in his own per-
son, is always the chief thing to consider ; for his individuality accom-
panies him always and everywhere, and gives its color to all his experi-
ences. In every kind of enjoyment, for instance, the pleasure depends
principally upon the man himself. Every one admits this in regard to
physical, and how much truer it is of intellectual, pleasure. When we
use that English expression, "to enjoy oneself," we are employing a very
striking and appropriate phrase ; for observe — one says, not "he enjoys
Paris, " but, ' ' he enjoys himself in Paris. " To a man possessed of an ill-con-
ditioned individuality, all pleasure is like delicate wine in a mouth made
bitter with gall. Therefore, in the blessings as well as in the ills of life,
less depends upon what befalls us than upon the way in which it is met,
that is, upon the kind and degree of our general susceptibility. What a
man is and has in himself, — in a word, personality, with all it entails, is
the only immediate and direct factor in his happiness and welfare. All
else is mediate and indirect, and its influence can be neutralized and
frustrated ; but the influence of personality never. This is why the
envy which personal qualities excite is the most implacable of all, — as it
is also the most carefully dissembled.
Further, the constitution of our consciousness is the ever present and
lasting element in all we do or suffer ; our individuality is persistently
at work, more or less, at every moment of our life : all other influences
are temporal, incidental, fleeting, and subject to every kind of chance
and change. This is why Aristotle says : // is not wealth but character
that lasts. > And just for the same reason we can more easily bear a mis-
fortune which comes to us entirely from without, than one which we have
drawn upon ourselves ; for fortune may always change, but not character.
Therefore, subjective blessings, — a noble nature, a capable head, a joyful
temperament, bright spirits, a well-constituted, perfectly sound physique,
in a word, mens sana in corpore sano, are the first and most important ele-
ments in happiness ; so that we should be more intent on promoting and
iEth. Eud, viii. 2. 37 :—
i) ydp (pv6t$ ftiftaioYt ov rd
THE WISDOM OF LIFE. 271
preserving such qualities than on the possession of external wealth and
external honor.
And of all these, the one which makes us the most directly happy is a
genial flow of good spirits ; for this excellent quality is its own immedi-
iate reward. The man who is cheerful and merry has alway a good
reason for being so, — the fact, namely, that he is so. There is nothing
which, like this quality, can so completely replace the loss of every other
blessing. If you know anyone who is young, handsome, rich and
esteemed, and you want to know, further, if he is happy, ask, Is he
cheerful and genial ? — and if he is, what does it matter whether he is
young or old, straight or humpbacked, poor or rich? — he is happy. In
my early days I once opened an old book and found these words :
If you laugh a great deal you are happy ; if you cry a great deal, you are
unhappy ; — a very simple remark, no doubt ; but just because it so simple
I have never been able to forget it, even though it is in the last degree a
truism. So, if cheerfulness knocks at our door, we should throw it wide
open, for it never comes inopportunely ; instead of that, we often make
scruples about letting it in. We want to be quite sure that we have
every reason to be contented ; then we are afraid that cheerfulness of
spirits may interfere with serious reflections or weighty cares. Cheerful-
ness is a direct and immediate gain, — the very coin, as it were, of happi-
ness, and not, like all else, merely a cheque upon the bank ; for it alone
makes us immediately happy in the present moment, and that is the
highest blessing for beings like us, whose existence is but an infinitesimal
moment between two eternities. To secure and promote this feeling of
cheerfulness should be the supreme aim of all our endeavors after happi-
ness.
Now it is certain that nothing contributes so little to cheerfulness as
riches, or so much, as health. Is it not in the lower classes, the so-
called working classes, more especially those of them who live in the
country, that we see cheerful and contented faces ? and is it not amongst
the rich, the upper classes, that we find faces full of ill-humor and vexa-
tion ? Consequently we should try as much as possible to maintain a
high degree of health ; for cheerfulness is the very flower of it I need
hardly say what one must do to be healthy — avoid every kind of excess,
all violent and unpleasant emotion, all mental overstrain, take daily
exercise in the open air, cold baths and such like hygienic measures.
For without a proper amount of daily exercise no one can remain healthy ;
all the processes of life demand exercise for the due performance of their
functions, exercise not only of the parts more immediately concerned, but
also of the whole body. For, as Aristotle rightly says, Life is movement;
it is its very essence. Ceaseless and rapid motion goes on in every part
of the organism. The heart, with its complicated double systole and
diastole, beats strongly and untiringly ; with twenty-eight beats it has to
drive the whole of the blood through arteries, veins and capillarie* ; the
11
BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
lungs pump like a steam-engine, without intermission ; the intestines are
always in peristaltic action ; the glands are all constantly absorbing and
secreting j even the brain has a double motion of its own, with every
beat of the pulse and every breath we draw. When people can get no
exercise at all, as is the case with the countless numbers who are con-
demned to a sedentary life, there is a glaring and fatal disproportion
between outward inactivity and inner tumult. For this ceaseless interna'
motion requires some external counterpart, and the want of it produces
effects like those of emotion which we are obliged to suppress. Even
trees must be shaken by the wind, if they are to thrive. The rule which
finds its application here may be most briefly expressed in Latin : omnis
molus, quo celerior, eo magis motus.
How much our happiness depends upon our spirits, and these again
upon our state of health, may be seen by comparing the influence which
the same external circumstances or events have upon us when we are
well and strong with the effect which they have when we are depressed
and troubled with ill-health. It is not what things are objectively and in
themselves, but what they are for us, in our way of looking at them, that
makes us happy or the reverse. As Epictetus says, Men are not influenced
by things but by their thoughts about things. And in general, nine-tenths of
our happiness depends upon health alone. With health, everything is a
source of pleasure ; without it, nothing else, whatever it may be, is enjoy-
able ; even the other personal blessings, — a great mind, a happy tempera-
ment— are degraded and dwarfed for want of it So it is really with good
reason that, when two people meet, the first thing they do is to inquire
after each other's health, and to express the hope that it is good ; for
good health is by far the most important element in human happiness.
It follows from all this that the greatest of follies is to sacrifice health for
any other kind of happiness, whatever it may be, for gain, advancement,
learning or fame, let alone, then for fleeting sensual pleasures. Every-
thing else should rather be postponed to it.
But however much health may contribute to that flow of good spirits
which is so essential to our happiness, good spirits do not entirely depend
upon health ; for a man may be perfectly sound in his physique and still
possess a melancholy temperament and be generally given up to sad
thoughts. The ultimate cause of this is undoubtedly to be found in innate,
and therefore unalterable, physical constitution, especially in the more or
less normal relation of a man's sensitiveness to his muscular and vital
energy. Abnormal sensitiveness produces inequality of spirits, a predomi-
nating melancholy, with periodical fits of unrestrained liveliness. A genius
is one whose nervous power or sensitiveness is largely in excess ; as Aris-
totle > has very correctly observed, Men distinguished in philosophy, politics,
poetry or art, appear to be all of a melancholy temperament. This is doubt-
less the passage which Cicero has in his mind when he says, as be often
1Probl, xxx, ep. i.
THE WISDOM OF LIFE. 273
does, Aristoteles ait omnes ingeniosos melancholicos esse. ' Shakespeare has
very neatly expressed this radical and innate diversity of temperament 10
those lines in The Merchant of Venice :
Nature has framed strange fellows in her time;
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots at a bag-piper;
And others of such vinegar aspect,
That they' II not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
This is the difference which Plato draws between evxoAoS and SvteoXol
— the man of easy, and the man of difficult disposition — in proof of which
he refers to the varying degrees of susceptibility which different people
show to pleasurable and painful impressions ; so that one man will laugh
at what makes another despair. As a rule, the stronger the susceptibility
to unpleasant impressions, the weaker is the susceptibility to pleasant
ones, and vice versa. If it is equally possible for an event to turn out
well or ill, the dvtixolos will be annoyed or grieved if the issue is
unfavorable, and will not rejoice, should it be happy. On the other
hand, the «£*o/los will neither worry nor fret over an unfavorable
issue, but rejoice if it turns out well. If the one is successful in
nine out of ten undertakings, he will not be pleased, but rather annoyed
that one has miscarried ; whilst the other, if only a single one succeeds,
will manage to find consolation in the fact and remain cheerful. But
here is another instance of the truth, that hardly any evil is entirely with-
out its compensation ; for the misfortunes and sufferings which the
SvtiHoA.01, that is, people of gloomy and anxious character, have to over-
come, are, on the whole, more imaginary and therefore less real than
those which befall the gay and careless ; for a man who paints everything
black, who constantly fears the worst and takes measures accordingly,
will not be disappointed so often in this world, as one who always looks
upon the bright side of things. And when a morbid affection of the
nerves, or a derangement of the digestive organs, plays into the hand of
an innate tendency to gloom, this tendency may reach such a height that
permanent discomfort produces a weariness of life. So arises an inclina-
tion to suicide, which even the most trivial unpleasantness may actually
bring about ; nay, when the tendency attains its worst form, it may be
occasioned by nothing in particular, but a man may rosolve to put an
end to his existence, simply because he is permanently unhappy, and then
coolly and firmly carry out his determination ; as may be seen by the way
in which the sufferer, when placed under supervision, as he usually is,
eagerly waits to seize the first unguarded moment, when, without a shud-
der, without a struggle or recoil, he may use the now natural and wel-
come means of effecting his release.* Even the healthiest, perhaps even
iTusc. i., 33.
I For a detailed description of this condition of mind ef. Esquirol Des maladies mentales,
13
274 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
the most cheerful man, may resolve upon death under certain circumstan-
ces ; when, for instance, his sufferings, or his fears of some inevitable
misfortune, reach such a pitch as to outweigh the terrors of death. The
only difference lies in the degree of suffering necessary to bring about
the fatal act, a degree which will be high in the case of a cheerful, and
low in that of a gloomy man. The greater the melancholy, the lower
need the degree be ; in the end it may even sink to zero. But if a man
is cheerful, and his spirits are supported by good health, it requires a high
degree of suffering to make him lay hands upon himself. There are count-
less steps in the scale between the two extremes of suicide, the suicide
which springs merely from a morbid intensification of innate gloom,
and the suicide of the healthy and cheerful man, who has entirely
objective grounds for putting an end to his existence.
Beauty is partly an affair of health. It may be reckoned as a personal
advantage ; though it does not, properly speaking, contribute directly to
our happiness. It does so indirectly, by impressing other people ; and it
is no unimportant advantage, even in man. Beauty is an open letter of
recommendation, predisposing the heart to favor the person who presents
it. As is well said in those lines of Homer, the gift of beauty is not
lightly to be thrown away, that glorious gift which none can bestow save
the gods alone —
ovroi ditofiXijT k<Srl QeoSr iptxvSetx daopa,
5<5<3a xev avrol §a>6ivy ixcov S'ovx av riS
The most general survey shows us that the two foes of human happi-
ness are pain and boredom. We may go further, and say that in the
degree in which we are fortunate enough to get away from the one, we
approach the other. Life presents, in fact, a more or less violent oscil-
lation between the two. The reason of this is that each of these two
poles stands in a double antagonism to the other, external or objective,
and inner or subjective. Needy surroundings and poverty produce pain ;
while, if a man is more than well off, he is bored. Accordingly, while
the lower classes are engaged in a ceaseless struggle with need, in other
words, with pain, the upper carry on a constant and often desperate
battle with boredom.8 The inner or subjective antagonism arises from
the fact that, in the individual, susceptibility to pain varies inversely with
susceptibility to boredom, because susceptibility is directly proportionate
to mental power. Let me explain. A dull mind is, as a rule associated
with dull sensibilities, nerves which no stimulus can affect, a tempera-
ment, in short, which does not feel pain or anxiety very much, however
great or terrible it may be. Now, intellectual dulness is at the bottom of
I Iliad 3, 65.
» And the extremes meet ; for the lowest state of civilization, a nomad or wandering
ife finds its counterpart in the highest, where everyone is at times a tourist The
•her stage was a case of necessity ; the latter is a remedy for boredom.
14
THE WISDOM OF LIFE. 275
that vacuity of soul which is stamped on so many faces, a state of mind
which betrays itself by a constant and lively attention to all the trivial
circumstances in the external world. This is the true source of boredom
— a continual panting after excitement, in order to have a pretext for giv-
ing the mind and spirits something to occupy them. The kind of things
people choose for this purpose shows that they are not very particular, as
witness the miserable pastimes they have recourse to, and their ideas of
social pleasure and conversation : or again, the number of people who
gossip on the doorstep or gape out of the window. It is mainly because
of this inner vacuity of soul that people go in quest of society, diversion,
amusement, luxury of every sort, which lead many to extravagance and
misery. Nothing is so good a protection against such misery as inward
wealth, the wealth of the mind, because the greater it grows, the less
room it leaves for boredom. The inexhaustible activity of thought 1
finding ever new material to work upon in the multifarious phenomena
of self and nature, and able and ready to form new combinations of them,
— there you have something that invigorates the mind, and apart from
moments of relaxation, sets it far above the reach of boredom.
But on the other hand, this high degree of intelligence is rooted in a
high degree of susceptibility, greater strength of will, greater passionate-
ness ; and from the union of these qualities comes an increased capacity
for emotion, an enhanced sensibility to all mental and even bodily pain,
greater impatience of obstacles, greater resentment of interruption ; — all
of which tendencies are augmented by the power of the imagination, the
vivid character of the whole range of thought, including what is disagree-
able. This applies, in varying degrees, to every step in the long scale of
mental power, from the veriest dunce to the greatest genius that ever
lived. Therefore the nearer anyone is, either from a subjective or from
an objective point of view, to one of these sources of suffering in human
life, the farther he is from the other. And so a man's natural bend will
lead him to make his objective world conform to his subjective as much
as possible ; that is to say, he will take the greatest measures against that
form of suffering to which he is most liable. The wise man will, above
all, strive after freedom from pain and annoyance, quiet and leisure,
consequently a tranquil, modest life, with as few encounters as may be ;
and so, after a little experience of his so-called fellow-men, he will elect
to live in retirement, or even, if he is a man of great intellect, in solitude.
For the more a man has in himself, the less he will want from other peo-
ple,— the less, indeed, other people can be to him. This is why a high
degree of intellect tends to make a man unsocial. True, if qualify of
intellect could be made up for by quantify, it might be worth while to live
even in the great world ; but unfortunately, a hundred fools together will
not make one wise man.
But the individual who stands at the other end of the scale is no
sooner free from the pangs of need than he endeavors to get pastime and
U
276 BEACON LIGHTS OF SCIENCE.
society at any cost, taking up with the first person he meets, and avoiding
nothing so much as himself. For in solitude, where everyone is thrown
upon his own resources, what a man has in himself comes to light : the
fool in fine raiment groans under the burden of his miserable personality,
a burden which he can never throw off, whilst the man of talent peoples
the waste places with his animating thoughts. Seneca declares that folly
is its own burden, — omnis stultitia laborat fastidio sui, — a very true saying,
with which may be compared the words of Jesus, the son of Sirach, The
life of a fool is worse than death.1 And, as a rule, it will be found that a
man is sociable just in the degree in which he is intellectually poor and
generally vulgar. For one's choice in this world does not go much
beyond solitude on one side and vulgarity on the other. It is said that
the most sociable of all people are the negroes ; and they are at the
bottom of the scale in intellect. I remember reading once in a French
paper * that the blacks in North America, whether free or enslaved, are
fond of shutting themselves up in large numbers in the smallest space,
because they cannot have too much of one another's snub-nosed com-
pany.
The brain may be regarded as a kind of parasite of the organism, a
pensioner, as it were, who dwells with the body : and leisure, that is, the
time one has for the free enjoyment of one's consciousness or individual-
ity, is the fruit or produce of the rest of existence, which is in general only
labor and effort. But what does most people's leisure yield ? — boredom
and dulness ; except, of course, when it is occupied with sensual pleasure
or folly. How little such leisure is worth may be seen in the way in
which it is spent : and, as Ariosto observes, how miserable are the idle
hours of ignorant men ! — ozio lungo d'uomini ignoranti. Ordinary people
think merely how they shall spend their time ; a man of any talent tries
to use it. The reason why people of limited intellect are apt to be bored is
that their intellect is absolutely nothing more than the means by which
the motive power of the will is put into force : and whenever there is
nothing particular to set the will in motion, it rests, and their intellect
takes a holiday, because, equally with the will, it requires something
external to bring it into play. The result is an awful stagnation of what-
ever power a man has — in a word, boredom. To counteract this miser-
able feeling, men run to trivialities which please for the moment they are
taken up, hoping thus to engage the will in order to rouse it to action,
and so set the intellect in motion ; for it is the latter which has to give
effect to these motives of the will. Compared with real and natural
motives, these are but as paper money to coin ; for their value is only
arbitrary — card games and the like, which have been invented for this
very purpose. And if there is nothing else to be done, a man will twirl
his thumbs or beat the devil's tattoo ; or a cigar may be a welcome sub-
stitute for exercising
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